


Cherry Blossom falls on a day dreaming devil

by Louadorable



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Amnesia, Angst, Child Dante (Devil May Cry), DMC Hanami Week, Demonic Society, Dreams/Aspirations, Dystopia, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Flirting, Fluff, Gen, Genetic Engineering, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Human Sacrifice, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, One Shot Collection, Post-Devil May Cry 5, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, Pre-Devil May Cry 3, Pre-Devil May Cry 5, Romance, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Seizures, Shopping, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Time Skips, Torture, Weaponcare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 75,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23611807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louadorable/pseuds/Louadorable
Summary: A collection of short stories for Hanami Week! :DWeaponcare- A young Dante goes to have his guns repaired by Nell Goldstein. Years later, Nicoletta Goldstein is examining Ebony and Ivory curiously.Dreams/Aspirations- After having his arm brutally ripped away from him, Nero is still recovering from the traumatic experience. Hearing Kyrie’s worries about her lover's deteriorating mental state. Nico sets out to make him a new arm.Fashion- Upon returning from Hell. Lady and Trish see the perfect opportunity to drag a reluctant Vergil on a shopping trip. Only...mild property damage ensues.Reflection- Following a rough day on the job, Tony Redgrave decides to take a short cut on his way home. Unfortunately for him, he runs into a hooded figure who shatters his whole world in a matter of seconds.Legendary/Hierarchy- During a romantic date, Eva asks about Sparda’s past, and what caused him to turn his back on his demonic overlord Mundus.Comfort- Fleeing from her murderous father, Mary never expected to end up at devil may cry.Cyberpunk AU- In a city controlled by the generally altered race of Demons, Lady's life as a mercenary was never easy. Especially when she ran into Dante. (7/8)
Relationships: Dante & Nell Goldstein (Devil May Cry), Dante & Nico (Devil May Cry), Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Dante/Lady (Devil May Cry), Dante/Lady/Vergil (Devil May Cry), Eva/Sparda (Devil May Cry), Kyrie/Nero (Devil May Cry), Lady/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 94





	1. Weaponcare (Dante, Nell, Nico)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first time publishing anything I’ve written! 
> 
> I decided to participate in this week, as I thought it would be a good test of my writing skills to write 7 unique stories over the course of around 3 months. Needless to say that is was certainly an enjoyable (if not nerve racking) ride throughout! That was pretty much, single handedly, supported by my crippling addiction to tea!
> 
> But back to the story! The prompt was probably the most fun to write for me. I’ve always wanted to explore the relationship between smol Dante and Nell Goldstein. I think her acting as a “Grumpy old pseudo-mother” figure to Dante is just adorable! That, and Nico is always a fun character to write! Especially when her fangirl crush on our favorite demon hunter is involved!
> 
> Anyway, enough said! I hope you guys enjoy! :D

“Oh come on! Please just die already!” The white haired boy yelled. Frantically dodging from side to side. The demons’ lashing, bloody tentacles barely missing his ankles. 

Firing round after round into the creatures ugly face was doing nothing. He had been at this for the past 30 minutes, and had barely made a dent in its thick hide. He could feel that his pistols were reaching their limit. Their hard casing growing hotter and hotter with each round fired out of the barrel. But, it completely took him off guard when guns exploded violently in his hands.

Holy shit did it hurt! On instinct he threw the guns to the floor. Diving into a nearby alleyway for cover. A nigh unbearable pain emanated from his hands, his thumbs having been seared by the explosion. A coating of hundred of tiny shards of red glowing metal covered his lower arms and part of his hands, the stench of burning flesh quickly permeating the air. Only his palms and his fingers had survived it somewhat okay, the grip of the guns having shielded those parts.

 _It’s ok._ He thought to himself. Gritting his teeth. _This is going to pass. You just need to ride this out like you always do!_

He wasn’t wrong. After an uncomfortable few minutes of withering in agony. Finally, his body’s weird healing factor finally kicked its ass into gear. Delicate, pale flesh weaving itself in and out of the charred, like a messed up tapestry. Pushing out what remained of the metal shards, falling onto the street floor. 

Cautiously, he peaked one blue eye open. Unsure as to what state he would find his arms in. Only to be pleasantly surprised (if not slightly uneasy) to see that his arms looked absolutely normal. Not a single discolouration or blemish to be seen marring his forearms. The boy couldn’t help but let out a massive sigh of relief, as he leant back and let the alley wall cradle his head. 

* * *

By the time he finally emerged from the sanctuary of the alleyway. The demon had seemingly disappeared into the night. 

Sure, he could case it down. It probably wouldn’t be too hard to find the weird ass tentacle monster roaming around the city. But at this point, Tony had enough for the night. It wasn’t like the pay was really worth it. He could barely buy a strawberry sundae at the shittest cafe in the city for that kind of money. _Darn cheapskates._

He had bigger issues to worry about right now. His pistols were a bust. Sure he had Rebellion, but that didn’t really quite cut it when it came to anything outside of close quarters combat. And…well, they held a certain sentimental value to him. 

Shaking his head and letting his messy white hair sway wildly. Tony walked over to the dropped guns. Barely illuminated in the dull street light. 

He put his hands into the pockets of his crimson coat. Using it as a makeshift oven glove, so not to experience anymore third degree burns today, as he picked up the still smoking pistols. Even with his coat as a barrier, the boy could still feel the heat radiate through the thick leather.

Yet, as he gazed down at what remained of his beloved weapons. He noticed something that he hadn’t really ever paid any mind to before. An engraving, incredibly faint on the expertly crafted main shaft of both pistols. _.45 Caliber Warks, huh?_ It took Tony a moment to realise the enigma that seemed to be this writing. _Is that who created these beauties in the first place?_

Strange. Most of the other weapons he had seen fellow mercenaries use didn’t seem to have this engraving. Granted, Tony knew they typically bought from blackmarket suppliers on the cheap. (He had seen many an arms exchange take place around him in the Bobby Cellar. Whenever he was sitting at the main bar drinking that delicious tomato juice, his bartender seemed to magically procure for him and him alone.) Which could only mean his guns must have come from a studio-

 _And a talented one at that given how smoothly these babies used to fire._ Tony thought fondly. Thinking back to all the adventures they had together. Him, Rebellion and these pistols. They were the only friends he ever needed! ~~And ever had as far as he could recall. The past so hazy in his mind. Filled with a deep bottomless well of grief to which he couldn’t remember the cause.~~ He couldn’t give up on them so easily!

 _Maybe I can get whoever created these guns to repair them? Surely, they should know what to do._ Yes, that seemed like a good enough plan for Tony. He let out a loud yawn, sending shivers through his body. His unruly locks somehow drooping even lower around his cute, boyish face in exhaustion. Silky ends tickling his delicate nose, and casting his features in shadow. 

_I’ll sort it out tomorrow,_ He thought, his young mind becoming increasingly clouded in fatigue. Tony turned in the direction of his make-shift lodgings. Ready to accept his hard mattress' warm embrace envelope him. The only reward he was going to get today. 

* * *

Well the gunsmith’s shop wasn’t much. That’s for sure. Hidden away on the second floor of a shabby downtown office building. The place was a cesspit of neon signs advertising from money lending, and dirty magazines. The most respectable shop Tony could see among the many shady businesses was a launderette. And even that looked as though it would probably take your left kidney if given the chance!

Tony sighed and looked down at a hastily written note on his hand. His friend Grue had been nice enough to give him pointers as to where the hell this place was. Not the easiest task given that the black ink had been smudged into almost an unreadable state by the warm sweat that had built up on his hands from running over here. 

_Up the stairs to your right? Geez I should have gotten some paper for this…_

Thankfully, much to the white-haired boy’s relief, he soon came across a dirty bronze sign pointing him in the direction of the studio. Climbing up a ramshackle, emergency stairwell that tenuously clung to the building it was attached too. His every step stranding the rusted metal beneath his feet. Tony found himself standing in front of an old wooden door, that looked closer to that of a hotel room than an actual business entrance. A doubt that manifested deep within Tony at the sight.

 _This has to be the right place. It’s got to be!_ Tony tried to encourage himself. His knuckles hesitantly hovering next to the door. Unable to stop the wave of raw anxiety that plunged through his system. _I mean if it’s just someone’s apartment. I’ll just apologise and have a door slammed in my face. Nothing else will happen._

Tony awkwardly stood there for what felt like an entirety. His usual over the top confidence, battling it out with his primal gut feeling. Finding it almost physically impossible to bring himself to knock on the weathered wood. Something deep-within him being set off like a screeching alarm, Making his hair stand up on end, as a low humming filling his ears-

Suddenly the door swung open. “You jus’ going to stand there all day kid?” Came a rough, feminine voice, with a slight southern tang to it. Startling Tony out of his all consuming trance

The women before him appeared to be in her late 50s. Butterscotch coloured, curly hair framed the women’s heart-shaped face. Surprisingly youthful, yet marred with slight wrinkles beginning to develop around her mouth and underneath her kind, brown eyes. She wore a short shelved, grey button down. Worn leather apron hanging loosely from her broad shoulders. All manner of tools peeking out from a small pocket. 

Tony had to double-take for a moment. This was the supposed “Gun artisan” Grue had talked about? He had naively been expecting to meet some scared, breaded craftsman straight out of some fantasy book. Not the motherly, middle-aged women that now stood before him. It was certainly a pleasant surprise to say the least. The young boy couldn’t help but feel all the overwhelming tension that had built up within him dissipate under her tired, gentle gaze. 

“Uh! Hello Mrs umm…” Tony blundered for his words. Completely caught off guard by the whole situation. Only stopping his incoherent vomit of words when he felt a large hand pat his head.

“The name's Goldstein kid. You wanna come in?” The women smiled softly. Moving aside to give him room to come through. 

Tony nodded, and squeezed past the women. His red coat brushing against the door, causing fragments of dried wood, and varnish to come off it like dust. As the white-haired boy found himself in a homely, yet messy workshop. 

“I’m afraid this place is a little run down. But make yourself at home.” She waltzed past him and moved to a cluttered workbench in the middle of the shop. Picking up a newly made barrel shaft, and examining it with a critical eye. Rubbing the metal down with dirty old rag that was soaked with an unknown chemical. “So what are you doing in this neighbourhood kid? Got lost by any chance?”

Tony lent against a nearby counter, unsure as to what to do with himself. “Lost? Please old lady, I know this part of town like the back of my hand!” He laughed. Carefully taking his guns out of their holsters. “I need you to take a look at these. Was wondering whether you could fix them or not."

The woman stopped what she was doing and turned around sharply. Raising an eyebrow at the pistols she saw in his hands. Without another word she took them. Examining the pair with an ever growing look of concern growing on her face. 

_It’s really that bad, huh?_ Tony despaired. If the creator of his beloved pistols was reacting like that. There wasn’t much chance for any kind of repair. 

“Hey, what’s your name Kid?” She asked softly. Putting the guns down on the bench behind her.

The white-haired boy tilted his head like a confused puppy. “Tony, why?” 

The gunsmith’s face softened in sympathy, before suddenly looking down at her apron. Her mess of curls hiding her expression from Tony. “They weren’t lying when they said he was young.” She muttered to herself. Her hands tensing into fists as she held onto the table behind her. 

She let out a deep sigh, and picked up one of the pistols from the table. Handing it back to the boy in red. “Well you sure did a number on these! Don’t think I’ll be to fix them anytime soon. Best get yourself a new pair kid.” She waved a hand in the direction of a mounted display near the front door. Stacked high with all kinds guns and rifles. “I’ve got plenty in stock.”

Yet Tony didn’t jump for joy, and rush over in childish wonder to see the newest of her deadly wears, like she expected from the boy. No, he just stood shook still. Bright blue eyes wide and empty. As though he had just been told his parents had died. 

And to Tony, she might as well have told him that. He stared at the ruined gun in his hand blankly. A wash of complicated feelings washing over him. Annoyance - that he was going to have to buy a new set of pistols, and waste yet more of the little money he had. Fury at himself for even mistreating his weapons to the point they had broken so spectacularly. But at his core, there was an overwhelming sadness that threatened to let loose the moisture rapidly building up behind his eyelids.

He always had to go and lose the things close to him, didn’t he? The things born from the happiest moments in his short life. Only to be snuffed out whenever some cruel higher power deemed so. ~~_Mother, Vergil._ ~~ These _guns_ were just another example of that unfairness. 

The day he received these guns, was the first real day Tony could clearly remember. Only being able to recall vague fragments of memory before that time. He moved to Capulet from Redgrave (Although he couldn’t for the life of him recall why). Then had met a rather plump, Italian man called Enzo. Who'd introduced him to the Bobby Cellar and all its rough, hulking patrons. Soon after, he had started working there. Taking on the odd client that was willing to let a kid do their dirty work, and didn’t mind circumventing a few child labor laws to do so. 

Then one day, after completing a rather irritating job. He had returned to find the bar unusually quiet. Nothing like the usual on-going riot that seemed to be the bars usual activity. His fellow mercenaries patiently siping their drinks, eyes trained on him as he walked though the establishment with growing unease. It was only when he spoke to the bartender, that he felt an enormous hand come to rest on his small shoulder. 

Man, had he been terrified by that. Even more so when the burly giant, that towered over Tony’s small stature, had reached into his back pocket and whipped out a twin pair of pistols. Tony thought that was going to be the end of him (Or at least he would have to hide until he had healed over enough to escape the ensuing bar fight that was likely to occur). Until guy proudly shoved the weapons into his hands. His mirky, grey eyes filled with satisfaction, as they bored down on him proudly. Like a father who had just given their son a birthday present, and was patiently waiting for their overjoyed reaction. 

And damn did they get it! He'd accidentally fired it into the ceiling, from playing around with them in his over-excitement. The whole bar laughing their asses off and cheering him on, as he shot beer bottle after beer bottle off the counter with uncanny accuracy. (How he knew to fire a gun so proficiently was still a complete mystery to Tony). His small from swarmed by every pat (well more like slap) on the back, hair ruffle, and rough handshake imaginable from his fellow mercenaries. 

It had been the first time he had truly felt happy and loved by anyone. He was even more touched when he found out the whole bar had banded together to pay for them. _“They really splashed out for those. Wanted to get you something half-way decent and not the usual crap for your first set of guns.”_ He recalled Grue telling him late one night.

Tony was only brought back to reality, when he felt a gentle hand come to rest on the back of his neck. The gunsmith having squatted down to his height. Her kind eyes filled with equal parts thoughtfulness and motherly care, as they levelled with his. 

“Hey, don’t be like that kid.” She said softly. Resting a warm hand over Tony’s and the gun. “Looks like you got a real attachment to them, don’t you?”

Tony nodded wordlessly, afraid that no amount of joking or playful remarks would hide the rawness of his voice if he spoke. 

“Here’s an idea: How about I take the metal from this gun, and use it in the creation of another specially made for you? That way its soul will live on in the next. How does that sound?” She asked. A slight smile tugging at her lips, as she patiently waited for his answer. 

_Its soul will live on in the next?_ The idea seemed oddly comforting to Tony. Even if he couldn’t ever use these pistols again, at least they would always be with him. By his side in one form or another, as though they had never left.

“Alright then. But they better be good, old lady.” He waved his hand at her as if he was trying to threaten her with the remains of his gun, a gesture that made her scoff in amusement. As he was bringing his arm back down again, Tony noticed just how hard he was gripping the banged up weapon. His knuckles had gone white from a lack of blood, and his fingers were too stiff for him to even move them. It took the use of his other hand and a quick pained gasp to pry the wreck our of his own hand, something that would have disquieted the boy if the gunsmith's voice hadn't shaken him out of it.

“Hey! I only produce the finest quality here. Don’t you worry!” She assured. Placing one hand on the table behind her, as she pushed herself up from the floor. The Gunsmith's knees audibly cracking in protest of the stretch. “You just better start growing soon, Kid. Think I'm going to get arthritis in my neck jus’ from looking down at you. "

“Oi!” Tony cried in offence. Crossing his small arms across his chest. “I’ll have you know, I’ve been told I am taller than the average boy my age!”

“And who told you that?” The Gunsmith scoffed. A wicked glint in her eyes, giving away that she had called his bluff.

“Well…ok you got me there!” Tony sighed in defeat. Running a hand through his wild snowy locks, as he walked towards the exit. "But just you know Mrs Goldstein. That I’ll come back when I’m all grown up, and you’ll just have to deal with all the crappy neck-ache from having to look up at me all the time!”

“How about in three days' time, Kid?” She laughed. Pointing a green screwdriver in his direction. “And you can all me Nell if you want.”

“Sure, Nell. I’ll see you then."

* * *

“Oh, where’s that damn screwdriver!” Came the frustrated cry of a frizzy haired young woman. Causing an unbearably loud racket to ring out across the cramped van, as she frantically slammed open the metal draws that surrounded her messy workstation. Barely managing not to knock over several other haphazardly placed tools in the process. 

_Heh, she’s just like you Nell isn’t she?_ Dante thought fondly. Sinking into a rather beaten and worn leather couch. His sharp blue eyes peeking up from behind his naughty magazine, as he watched the comedic situation unfold before him. 

Despite bearing more of a physical resemblance to her “asshole daddy” (As she had so lovingly proclaimed at their first meeting). It was becoming increasingly hard for Dante not to see her grandmother’s influence in her. They were both clumsy, easily excitable, had a love for banter with their favourite customer, and incredibly talented at their craft (Even his gun hating older brother had expressed his admiration for her work. Now _that_ was a compliment). 

It was a comfort to Dante’s heart that Nell’s spirit lived on in her granddaughter. Part of him desperately wanted to know how Nell would have reacted to meeting the hot mess that was Nico. God knows what kind of insanity that pair would have come up with. 

_And he would have been first in line to buy that shit! Debts be damned!_

The assault of metallic noise came to a sudden halt. “Ah ha, there you are!” Nico cheered happily. Her southern accent, having a slight nasally edge to it, that made it all the more pleasant to Dante’s ears. As she held a green handled screwdriver to her chest. "Come back to mama!” 

After that touching family reunion. The gunsmith pulled herself up from the floor and finally got to work on a familiar revolver. Using the _incredibly_ technical method of jamming her screwdriver’s tip into one of the revolver's holes in an attempt to remove a lodged bullet. 

“Man, you’d think he’d take better care of his weapons wouldn’t you? This is the fourth time in the last month Blue Rose has gotten all jammed up.” Her voice became strained near the end. As she pushed on the screwdriver with all her might, at the sudden feel of leverage. Only for the screwdrivers' sharp head to snap off and go flying down the van past Dante. Crashing to the floor with a loud clank near the driver's seat. 

The gunsmith started at what remained of the broken screwdriver in her hand for a moment in confusion. Before throwing it into a nearby bin. Miraculously grabbing another, orange hilted one out of nowhere, and continuing on as if nothing had happened. "At this rate, I’m surprised my daddy never had to repair that turbo-charged demon cleaver of his!"

“Guess breaking guns must just run in the family. Used to break mine all the time!” Dante called out in a nonchalant tone. Turning his gaze back to a photo of a skimpily dressed red-head, lounging around on a tropical beach. Her full, crimson lips pouting, as another gorgeous woman with long blond hair cascading down her back, ate a seemingly stolen slice of pizza in front of her. 

Well, that was all put to a stop when his beloved magazine was yanked from his hands and thrown onto the nearby coffee table. As Nico stood over the white haired man imposingly. One of her messy eyebrows slight raised. Resting her head in her hand in deep thought, as she gazed down to Dante’s belt line.

“What, see something you like?” He joked flirty. Brushing a few stray, long white locks behind his ear, just to get a good look at the furiously blushing young women in front of him. Her face a comical mess of embarrassment, as her mouth gapped open and closed seemingly out of her control. 

“N-no! N-Nothing like that Mr Dante! Sir!” She yelled flustered. Ravenously jabbing a finger towards the leather holster at the demon hunter’s side. “Jus’ your guns. Those badass pistoles of your’s never need any repair! I was jus’ curious that’s all!”

Dante looked down at Ivory, removing it and Ebony from its holsters. He held the guns in his hands for a moment. Blankly staring at them as a undeniable truth dawned on him.

He had gone for 30 years without ever needing a repair on his weapons. 30 long years since he had last seeked out a certain gunsmith, to ask her to make him a new set of guns, after busting up yet another pair. Only a few days later, did Nell gift him Ebony and Ivory to him on her deathbed. Remembering vividly how he had held her in his arms, weeping violently as her shop - his second home - burnt down around them. 

The devil hunter clenched his eyes shut, as the memories of that day came flooding back to him. The deep, carnivorous pain eating away at his heart still as raw and untouched since that day. Dante knew he had only surpassed those feelings. Kept them under tight lock and key. Drowned away in whiskey, ignorance and other priorities. 

Dante knew he needed to change this. His inability to work through his grief, and do everything possible not to confront it had only hurt others in the end. Nero, being the classic example of his fuck ups. Unable to look past the ghostly image of Vergil, haunting Nero’s features every time he saw the kid. Treating him in the same obnoxious teasing manner he had done to his brother, when he should have been there to support him as a parental figure. Refusing to admit who his father was. What _he_ had done to him. When all his nephew desperately wanted to know if he had family out there.

Now he was going to do the same thing with Nico, wasn’t he? Unable to move past his grief over Nell. He couldn’t separate the two as their own separate beings. The ghost of his old friend playing out again in her descendant. He didn’t want to treat Nico any differently because of that. 

Shaking his head softly causing his hair to sway along side. He let out a deep weighty sigh. Opening his eyes, he let his gentle gaze fall on the mechanic. Signalling to her with a slight eye movement that she could take the guns from his hands. 

“Come on, don’t be shy! You didn’t get a real good look last time, so….guess I still owe you that.” He reassured, only to find the excited young women had already snatched Ebony and Ivory from his hands. 

The last time Dante had given her the pistols for an inspection had been cut short, so Nico was making the most of it now. She took her time, meticulously looking over everything and checking every mechanism. Letting out the occasional pleased whistle if she noticed an element of their craftsmanship, she hadn’t noticed before Her eyes growing wider and more giddy behind her red-rimmed glasses. Like a kid in a candy store of violent weapons. 

“Given how much you fire these Dante. It’s truly amazing they don’t over-heat! What on earth kinda metal was my old lady using for these monsters?” Nico exclaimed in amazement. Looking down at the handsome demon hunter as though he knew the answer to that question. 

Dante could only smile in response. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope my first story was enjoyable for you guys! Was quite terrifying to publish this. So I'm very thankful to a certain friend on discord, for being my motivation *cough cough* to do this!
> 
> If you would like to find me on Tumblr here's my page: https://louadorable126.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you for reading! ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ


	2. Dream/Aspiration (Nero, Nico, Kyrie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> This one was a bit of a struggle I have to admit. I find writing Vergil and Dante much easier than characters like Nero and Kyrie. So I had to consult a good friend of mine who really likes Nero to check if my characterization was on point. Let’s hope I haven’t let him down! ＼(º □ º l|l)/
> 
> Dreams and Aspiration as a prompt was kind of a blessing and a curse for me. I chose it because I had a story I really liked in my head. But also I worried it would be too vague and wouldn’t quite fit! So I apologize if that’s the case.
> 
> Anyway I won’t keep you any longer! I hope you enjoy!

Kyrie woke up with a start, as she felt the warm coverings of her duvet be kicked away from the bed. Leaving her exposed to the freezing elements.

This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence whilst she slept in the same bed as her beloved. He had always been a messy sleeper. One who liked to stretch himself across the whole bed, leaving little room for her to lay unless she cuddled up against him, or casting off blankets in the middle of the night.

But…in more recent times, what would normally be a rather adorable trait of her sleeping boyfriend, had morphed into something far more sinister. Something that was becoming a common occurrence every night. That left the songstress on-edge as she anxiously waited on the borders of her unconscious, for what she knew would come stalking at the stroke of midnight to torment her lover. 

_“Please, don’t…come..near me.. Get away!”_ Came the frightening mumbling of Nero in his sleep. Tightly cling onto his soft pillow as though his life depended on it. His legs kicked erratically as he tried to flee someone…or something. Pale skin covered in a thick layer of briny sweat. 

Kyrie knew she had to be careful with how she approached him in this state. Nero had been trained by her brother. The same brother who would try to rip any intruder's throat out if he was suddenly awoken by them. Because of this, it had always been a delicate process waking him up for his morning practice because of this. But, he hadn’t been in the throws of a nightmare when she had reached out to pluck him from the lucid state he had been peacefully resting in. 

And so it took all of Kyrie’s courage to carefully place her hands on her boyfriend's moist shoulders, and carefully shake them in time with a soft hum she sang to herself. A lullaby of sorts she knew would subdue Nero regardless of the situation.

Nero’s eyes snapped open at the sound. He gasped for air, like he had reached the water’s surface. Heaving violently as he tried to get air into his overworked lungs. Wrapping his only arm around the person who was holding him down, and pulling them down against his chest. Clinging to them in an attempt to ground himself, as his body broke into uncontrollable tremors. Their soft, warm body pressed against his, providing no end of comfort. 

It took a moment for his azure eyes to focus finally on Kyrie’s tender face. “Kyrie? That...you?” 

“Yes Nero. You’re safe now." She whispered, stroking his cheekbones with her thumbs. “Don’t worry. Nobody is going to hurt you, remember?”

Nero shook his head in dismay. A petrified look on his boyish face, as he bit down on his lip. “H-he’s...gonna come back! He’s gonna hurt you and the kids!” 

He couldn’t avoid looking down at the bandaged stub where his demonic arm had once been, as it lay there tauntingly beside him. A constant reminder of the weakness he so feared. The loss of his demonic power.

Nero couldn’t put into words how much he despised the sight of it! Hated this situation he was now trapped in! Too depressed to leave his bed, because he was too cowardly to face those he should be protecting. To see the heart-breaking pity on their faces at his situation. Dammit, he was just playing into the role of the victim, wasn’t he? Fuck!

Tears of frustration welling up in his eyes, that he stubbornly refused to let fall. Throwing his good arm over his face, to hide the venerability with which his cheeks twitched, on the verge of breaking down. 

“I’m…not strong enough to protect you, Kyrie. I-I can’t protect anyone like this!” Nero’s voice cracked painfully, as liquid began to run down his face. "God dammit, what the hell am I gonna do-"

Kyrie pulled his head to her chest. Allowing him to bury his head into her breasts as he wept. Stroking his fluffy white hair, like a mother comforting her distraught son. Cooing gentle words of reassurance into his ear. Even rattling on about topics that had nothing to do with his night terrors. Explaining how she planned on making pasta for dinner tonight, and had already bought all the ingredients for it. To which, she proceeded to give a detailed explanation as to what each of the mundane ingredients would be used for. 

In hindsight, it was utterly ridiculous and completely out of place for her to talk about these kinds of things. But Kyrie hoped that it would distract him a little from his sorrows. Even if just for a moment.

Soon enough, Nero’s convulsions came to a gradual end. Having cried himself to sleep in her arms. Kyrie let out a sigh of relief, as she listened to the peaceful breaths escaping his parted lips. Stroking his fluffy mop of hair sadly. 

_I’m sorry I can’t do more for you, Nero._

* * *

The smell of sizzling bacon wafted into the garage. 

Here Nico was, minding her own damn business as she fiddled with the van’s oil. When that scent had to go and send her brain into a ravenous animalistic overdrive, as she craved for it. Causing drool to escape her mouth and run down her chin. 

Out of instinct she got out from under the van, and followed the hypnotic scent into the house. Eventually finding herself at the source of the smell, a small pan containing 4 strips of bacon cooking away on the stove. It was only after the kitchen’s chief prodded her shoulder, that Nico realised she had been standing right over the pan like an inpatient dog. 

“O-oh, hey Kyrie!” Nico blurted out, embarrassed. Face turning bright red, as she awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck. “I see you're making breakfast! Looks good!”

Kyrie smiled softly at eccentric women. “Good morning Nico! I’m glad you think that!” She chuckled. Grabbing a plastic spatula from a nearby pot of utensil. "Oh, could you move aside for one moment? I need to flip the bacon.”

Nico clumsily pushed her glasses back; stepping aside and gesturing to the open space. “Sure! Sorry for getting in your way.” 

Kyrie quickly rushed into the open area. Effortlessly sliding her spatula under the sizzling strips. Moving the pan in such a way that the oil was flipped up into the air and came crashing back down onto the top side of the meat. 

It was incredible to watch how quickly Kyrie was able to put a tasty feast together. It could honestly rival the old tales of the Grammeowster Chef, cooking for the monster hunting hero, Nico used to read about in her bedtime stories. As the women pulled a tray of cooked tomatoes and mushrooms from the oven, fried a few dozen eggs, and toasted some homemade bread all in a matter of minutes. Before finally placing them all on separate six plates. Not a single drop of delicious juice leaking out from the bacon falling out of place. Ending it all with an elegant flourish that could rival those she had seen Dante perform at the end of battle. 

Once Kyrie had handed out breakfast to the boys, sending them running back up to their rooms to scoff down the meal. She returned to the kitchen and handed Nico her plate. Before the two of them sat down at the nearby dining room table. 

Nico eagerly moved to eat the bacon she so long desired to taste. Cut away a rather large chuck of the strip and shoving it into her mouth whole. A joyous smile stretching across her face at the sheer perfection of it.

“Well hot damn Kyrie! You’ve done it again!” Nico proclaimed. Her voice muffled by the food in her mouth. “Seriously, how do you make your bacon so good?

“Oh you’re too kind!” The songstress blushed. Fanning her face with her hand to cool herself down."But to answer your question, I just simply flip the pan so that the oil is frying both the top and bottom sides of the bacon at all times. That way it comes out extra crunchy at the end!”

 _So that was what she was doing earlier!_ Nico realised. Her eyes drifting over to the grease stained pan floating amongst the bubbles in the sink. 

The two of them continued to eat for a while. Ideal chatting between them mainly consisting of Nico’s praise and teasing out of the songstress’ cooking secrets. But the longer they sat there, a growing concern started to creep into the back of Nico’s mind. The sixth plate Kyrie had left out hadn’t been touched by anyone. Gradually growing colder as the minutes ticked by. Soon enough, the mad scientist began to fear for who she guessed was the plates owner. The only person who had not shown their face this morning.

“Kyrie….How’s Nero doing?” Nico asked in a careful, yet concerned voice.

The songstress practically froze on the spot, at the mention of her lover’s condition. Her fork remained teasingly close to puncturing the surface of a brown mushroom's tender skin. Her gentle brown eyes grew wide, as she stared fearfully at Nico’s bespectacled face. Her posture tense. 

“Not great.” She breathed, painfully slow. As though she was trying to delay her words to stave off the pain. “He had another nightmare last night.”

“Oh...I’m sorry to hear that.”Nico mumbled sadly "You jus’ letting him sleep in then-“

“He’s refusing to leave bed.” Kyrie said bluntly, uncharacteristically cutting Nico off. That alone set off warning sirens in the mad scientists head. She’d never seen Kyrie this agitated before!

"The loss of his arm has made him….angry at the world. And because he’s too scared to confront it right now, he’s grown incredibly frustrated with himself….Nero thinks he can’t protect us anymore, and I can see it's tearing him apart inside. Yet, nothing I seem to do or say soothes him!" Kyrie exclaimed. Every word jam-packed with deep emotion behind them. The poor woman looked like she was on the verge of bursting into tears at the slightest of movements. Her amber eyes, vulnerable and misted up. 

“I’d hoped that maybe a-a nice breakfast would have l-lured him down. B-but even that hasn’t worked!” Kyrie dropped her fork from her hand with a loud clunk, and threw her hands up to her face. Burying herself in them as sobs began to overtake her body.

“Woah, woah, woah! Hey Kyrie it’s going to be alright!” Nico cried, running over to the distraught women and pulling her into a hug. “Nero is a mopey sap at the best of times! I’m sure he’ll get over it soon enough!

Kyrie shook her head violently. Long strands of hair sticking to the moist skin of her face.“But h-he isn’t, is he? He’s practically d-disabled for l-life now! A-and even with that demonic side of him…...I don’t think his arm is going to m-magically grow back!” She sobbed.

Nico hated to admit that she wasn’t wrong about that. From what she had heard about Nero’s business associate Dante, she knew a dude like him could take a stab to the chest and recover in minutes. But it had almost been a week now, and Nero had shown no sign of any kind of regeneration of the limb. In all respects, he was a lost cause. 

Well…maybe not entirely lost….

An idea began to form in Nico’s head. A mad one to be sure! One that certainly violated her moral code. But, if it meant she could help those who had so kindly taken her in. It was worth it. 

But before she could begin to fully concoct such a scheme. Nico needed to find some way of calming Kyrie down. Knowing full well she couldn’t leave her in this fragile state. 

Nico pulled the woman closer for a moment, as she pondered her options. Kyrie seemed appreciative of this. Proceeding to bury her head into the engineer's shoulder. Soaking it wet with tears in moments, as she nuzzled her cheek against the women’s soft, frizzy hair.

But eventually an idea came to Nico. With great care she began to loosen her hold over the songstress. Letting her arms slip from around her tender shoulders. Pulling away from her, and gazing deeply into Kyrie’s swollen, reddened eyes, 

“Say Kyrie, have you considered maybe Nero feels bad because you’re doing everything for him?” Nico asked in a soft voice. Yet, it did little to dampen the horrified look that surged across the songstress’ delicate face. Nico quickly realised her mistake, and moved to stop the poor women from imploding again. 

“Hey, I’m not saying that it’s your fault!” Nico exclaimed, waving her arms around in surrender. "Honestly Kyrie you are a wonderful girlfriend! You’re too good for him sometimes. But- Oh, you know how he is! Nero struggles to accept help from others. And that self-sacrificing complex runs deep! Maybe if you…crap, I don’t know how to get him to help you cook? Then maybe he will feel less like a failure in those respects!"

“Get him to help me cook?” Kyrie repeated softly to herself. Raising an index finger to her lips, as she pondered the idea. Amber eyes glancing between the fridge and a nearby wooden cutting board on the side. “I suppose cutting vegetables should be alright. Even if he can’t do that…he can still stir the pot?” She mumbled. “Yes, that might work. He can help me make pasta tonight then.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Nico beamed brightly. Patting a rather flushed Kyrie on the head. “Jus’ remember that it's not your fault this has happened, and I promise he’ll get better soon.”

Kyrie nodded, looking a little perkier than she had done before. “I hope so. Thank you Nico.” 

Upon hearing the all clear that she was better. Nico gave Kyrie a reassuring pat on the shoulder, before heading back to her dark domain in the garage. A look of hardened determination of her face.

“And I’ll make sure, to see to that.” Nico muttered ominously. Slamming the heavy wooden door to the garage shut behind her. 

* * *

_Dammit daddy! Why’d ya gotta record all your findings on paper? Computers exist!_ Nico cursed in her head, as she rummaged through the seemingly endless scraps of paper, she had laid out across the garage floor. Pushing herself around on her knees as she jumped from one article to another.

As much as she despised her old man, the dude knew what he was doing when it came to all things demonic. Nico had dived into it a few times before, normally on half a glass of whiskey when she did. It took a lot of strength to stomach the grotesque things he had done to the members of the order of the sword, in his quest to transform them into demons. Lots of logs about failed test subject “X” and failed test subject “Y”. Her father found great pleasure in describing in meticulous detail what had caused their “failure”. 

But this time her adrenaline and aspirations to improve Nero’s situation filled that alcoholic void. Spurring her on, as she searched for anything close to what she was looking for in the maze graphic disruptions and weird phrases before her. A vanity of marker pens laying lidless on the floor, waiting to be used whenever she got nearby. 

“The subjects' limbs gained more muscular mass during the later stages of the ascension ceremony- Aw' come on! I was so close this time!” Nico growled to herself in frustration. Having come the closest to what she was looking over these last few hours. Nothing she had found so far having anything to do with limb regeneration!

Nico let herself crash to the floor in frustration. Laying with her limbs sprawled out amongst the sea of paper, as she angrily glared at the artificial hanging light above her. Her wild hair, more unruly than usual. 

_I’m getting nothing out of this. Maybe I should give this up for today._ Nico mused, putting an arm across her eyes to block out the light. The pounding of a head-ache starting to form in the back of her head. 

“Nico? Are you doing alright in there?” Came Kyrie’s muffled, gentle voice. 

The gunsmith pushed herself up from the floor slightly with a grunt. Starting at the door to the house with a weary gaze. “Yeah I’m good. You wanna come in?” Nico asked.

A moment later Kyrie appeared in the garage, with a pot of steaming coffee in hand. She looked around at the mess of papers surrounding Nico. A look of confusion on her pretty face. Geez, Kyrie must have though she'd become some sort of conspiracy theorist!

“I know, I know! I look insane right now, don’t I?” Nico declared, waving her hand to dismiss any thoughts Kyrie must have had of her. “I promise I’ve still got my head screwed on the right way!”

Kyrie began to chuckle at the sight of the gunsmith’s bizarre situation. “That’s alright Nico. I don’t question anything you get up to in here. As long as you don’t blow up the house that is!” The songstress stated poignantly. Placing the pot of black coffee down on a nearby, cluttered table. 

Nico crossed her arms defensively. "Like that’s ever going to happen! I’ve never blown anything up before.!”

“Sure you haven’t.” Kyrie said slyly. Before her face lit up in realisation. She reached into the pocket of her flowery dress, and began to rummage for something. “Oh! I almost forgot to ask. Julio was playing with his fork after breakfast this morning and managed to bend it in half. Can you fix it for me?"

“Anything for you, Kyrie! I’ll see what I can do.” Nico agreed. Waiting until Kyrie had found the deformed fork in question, before taking it from her. Examining the severity of the distortions in the metal, as she played with it in her hands. 

The sudden sound of children yelling at each other rang out across the house. At the sound, Kyrie moved to leave, rushing over to the door. “That would be the boys! Guess I have to go. Will see you later at dinner then?

“Yeah sure thing! Should have this old thing fixed by then!’ Nico reassured, playfully pointing the twisted fork in her direction. 

“Alright then” She smiled brightly. Before rushing out of the room, her long, yellow floral dress flowing behind her, as she yelled. “Carlo! Kyle! What have I told you about fighting over toys!"

Once she was certain the songstress wouldn’t notice. Nico moved to close the door, as a loud racket between the two boys and their adoptive mother insured. Leaning back against it, she let herself slip down to the floor. Letting out a deep sigh of relief, as she looked down at the fork in her hands. 

_Geez kid! What on earth did you do to this thing!_ Nico wondered with morbid curiosity. Adjusting her gold-timed glasses, as she squinted at the object in question. _I’m going to have to use a mallet or something to get this damn thing straight again!_

The frizzy haired woman pulled herself up from the floor. Multiple joints cracking in succession, as she lifted her arms up and stretched herself out. Once suitably loosed from all that bending over, Nico strolled over to her coffee. Giving herself time to appreciate the non-existent taste of the instant coffee's formula on her tongue as she took cautious sips of the boiling liquid, before putting the mug back down. 

True to her word, Nico reached over the cluttered table, pushing aside some old blueprints and spanners of hers, before she grabbed a hold of the worn, plastic handle of her mallet. Taking it in her hand like a mighty war hammer, Nico chucked it up into the air and caught it again a few times. Getting used to the weight of it with every catch. When she had her fun with it, Nico turned to her victim. A wicked glint in her dark brown eyes, as the all consuming shadow of the mallet loomed over the unsuspecting fork. Before she began to beat down on it, like a blacksmith working tirelessly in their forge.

Twenty or so swings late, the fork looked as good as new! Well…if not slightly dented and chipped in certain places. Nico was just going to ignore that, as she picked it up in her hands and grinned at her handy work.

“Guess you’ll be having no trouble with your pasta tonight, kid!” Nico spun the fork around in a manner that looked as though she were eating some sort of invisible pasta. 

All of a sudden, something clicked in the gunsmith’s mind. She looked down at her arm, and repeated the mundane gesture again, and again, and again. Watching closely as her arm muscles relaxed and contracted. The realisation dawned upon her that one hand, especially not a dominant one, wasn't exactly enough to perform such seemingly mundane actions as spinning one's fork to grab some pasta - and there was no way in hell that Nero could even hold the darn thing with his stump. 

Unless…she made him a new arm.

Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of that before? That was far more within her field of expertise, then demonic arm growing! 

Throwing the fork back onto the workbench with a clack. Nico grabbed the roll of blueprints she had cast aside, and flipped the paper over. Before rolling the scroll out across the floor. She then rushed into the van and over to her work area. Grabbing a marker pen and a ruler from an old, mouldy cup she had converted. The faded words “I’m not a hot mess. I’m a spicy disaster!” sprawled out across the front of it.

Pen in hand, she darted back to her pile of blueprints and got to work.

* * *

“Come on! Don’t move, dammit!” Nero snapped, as yet another tomato rolled away from his knife, as he tried to cut it. 

Nero slammed the down knife on the counter. Breathing heavily, as he covered his eyes with his hand. Trying to calm the rising anger, at the unfairness of it all, within him. 

_Look at me. Even when I try and help Kyrie with the simplest of tasks I’m utterly useless!_ He thought despairingly. Grinding his teeth together in frustration. 

All of a sudden, the sound of footsteps approaching drew Nero’s attention. In a panic he quickly looked up to see who it was. His hand hovering dangerously close to the kitchen knife. Ready to defend himself against the intruder-

“Yo Nero! I see that Kyrie got you cooking then!” Nico chirped. Appearing from the shadows of the nearby hallway. Her usual playful grin spread across her face.

“Yeah she did. Can’t say I’m all that helpful right now though..” Nero mumbled sadly, as he gazed down at the chopping board in front of him.

Nico walked over to him, and rested her body against the other side of the counter. Arms folded across her chest, as she leaned in towards him.

“Hey, I’ve got something in the works that could help you.” Nico stated quietly, as though it were a closely guarded secret she didn’t want anybody but the white-haired young man to hear. “All you’ve gotta to do is come into the garage."

Nero’s curiosity was piqued by this strange offer. He looked up at the gunsmith. His deep blues meeting her dark brown eyes as he debated whether or not to take it. It wasn’t like Kyrie would mind if he abandoned his cutting duties for a little while. She told him he could take his time, and it wasn’t like he was getting anywhere with it. 

“Alright then” He sighed. Walking around the granite counter. “Show me the way, Nico.”

Nico practically jumped up into the air with excitement, before she hurried off ahead of him. Seemingly losing control of her mouth and the thickness of her southern accent, as she began to ramble; “Oh boy, you’re going to love it! I’ve been putting my heart and soul into this beauty!"

 _What on earth has gotten her so excited?_ Nero wondered, as he entered the garage behind her. _The last time she got like this was when we found that scaly chunk of some lightning demon!_

But, Nero’s thoughts were cut short when he caught sight of the decimated shelving across the room. He froze up. Unable to concentrate on anything accept what had been the cause of such destruction. He scanned the area of jittery eyes, desperately looking for the pool of his own blood he knew should be there. Yet he couldn’t even find a single stain of it on the concrete floor. All the while, he self-consciously grabbed at the bandaged stump where his arm should be. Where it wasn’t anymore. Where it had been taken-

“Woah, Woah, Woah! Nero calm down! Everything’s fine! Nobody’s here except you and me!” Nico cried, as she quickly rushed over from her workbench to the panicking young man. Rubbing his shoulders soothingly. “Crap, I should have thought about this more! Sorry Nero-“

“I-its fine Nico. Don’t worry about it.” He replied shakily between breaths. Letting himself be grounded by the sensation of Nico’s warm hands massaging his tense shoulders.

After a couple of minutes, once Nico was sure the young man wasn’t about to keel over from fright, she let go of his shoulders. Quickly raising her hand to cover her mouth as she coughed awkwardly into it. “Where were we again?”

“You had a surprise for me.” Nero reminded in a soft, gentle voice. Not a single ounce of his normal punky attitude behind the words. Something both incredibly rare and sweet to hear; Nero’s true self in its purest form. But also incredibly unnerving for the engineer. An example of something not right with the world, or with Nero’s current state of mind.

“O-oh yeah! Come right this way.” Nico stuttered out. Gesturing for the white-haired man to follow her to the workbench. 

Nero complied, and tailed along behind her. Only to raise his pale eyebrows in surprise, at strange, almost clockwork contraption he saw over Nico’s shoulder. 

It looked like a robotic arm. Not in the cool sci-fi sense really, an amalgamation of cooking utensils, spoons, forks and ladles surrounding a mechanical core, the nature of which he couldn't quite tell at a glance. Poking out of one end of it sat one of their forks, seemingly having been merged into this chimera of kitchenware. 

“What…the hell?” Nero blurted out in surprise. 

“I’d like to introduce you to your new arm! Pasta breaker-“ Nico gestured towards the awe-struck white haired man. “Meet Nero! He’s your new owner!"

“You named it?!” Nero questioned, walking over to get a closer look at the weird ass contraption.

Nico pouted at him. “Yeah of course dumbass! What did’ ya think I was going to call it? An arm that’s made for shovelling pasta into that big mouth of yours?”

“Oi!” Nero cried in offence."You're one to talk, Nico! After you devoured that meatball of Kyrie's in one bite"

“Hey! That was one time!” Nico stated defensively. Although she wasn’t all that annoyed by the playful banter. Rather, she was quite relieved to see the playful, big brother-like Nero she remembered coming back. “Anyway, we should get back to business! Can you come over here for a second?”

Nero nodded and moved next to Nico.“Sure- Hey wait!” He cried, as Nico grabbed the stump of his arm and began to rip off the worn bandages covering the wound. Causing the raw wound to flare up upon coming in contact with the open air. Nero hissed in pain and tried to break free from the gunsmiths grasp.

“Stop moving! This’ll be done quicker if you just stop being such a pussy about it!” Nico exclaimed pitiless, as she forcefully gripped his bicep tightly. Trying to hold him still, as she fitted a heavy, metal plate around the stump of his arm. 

Nero squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to stomach the burning sensation that just made him want to itch his arm until there was nothing left. His only relief being the icy cool of the metal plate against his arm. Oddly soothing, as it put out the raging fires threatening to overwhelm him with biting irritation. 

Once he stopped feeling Nico fidgeting with the steel ring. Nero peaked open one eye….the another. 

He gazed down at his arms, only to find two of them now present. On his left, was his flesh and blood arm. Nothing new or strange about that. No, it was the ‘Pasta Breaker’ attached to his right, that made him gasp in surprise; as the fork began to whirl around, like an automated kitchen whisk, with the tensing of his bicep. 

“Holy shit!” Nero swore, jolting back in surprise. Colliding with the workbench behind him, causing a several spanners and awkwardly stacked items to come crashing to the floor

Nico pumped her fist in victory. “Hell yeah! It works! Come on, we gotta go and test it out!” She cheered enthusiastically. Grabbing Nero’s flesh and blood hand and dragging him back into the house.

To Nero’s surprise, when they arrived back in the kitchen, Kyrie was there. Seemingly having carried on the work that he had abandoned, as she was finishing up cutting the remaining mushrooms for the sauce. A steaming pot already on the stove.

Kyrie looked up at the pair, when she sensed their presence. Letting out a small gasp, when her gentle eyes caught sight of Nero’s robotic hand. She immediately stopped what she was doing and rushed over to her beloved. She started to closely examine the pasta breaker, prodding at the mechanical clockwork curiosity, when Nero put a gentle hand to her slim shoulder and pushed her back.

“Careful Kyrie! I’m not too sure I can control it right now.” He warned. Just in the nick of time too! As the fork began to whirl around once again. 

Kyrie stared at the smug, frizzy haired women behind her boyfriend in shock. “Did you make this, Nico?”

“That I did, Kyrie! I’d like you to meet my brand new Pasta Breaker!” Nico exclaimed proudly. Walking around to pat the robotic arm like it was a well-behaved pet. "Whatcha think?”

“It’s very… _kitchen oriented_?” Kyrie complimented politely, one eyebrow raised. An uneasy, yet hesitantly approving smile on her face. “What...exactly is it meant to do?”

"It’s meant to help Nero eat pasta of course! Kinda hard when you only got one arm!” Nico gazed over at the boiling pot that was beginning to overflow with white foam. "Though, I’m guessing we don’t have long until we can test it out?"

“Ah! I completely forgot!” Kyrie yelped, rushing over to the stove. Hurriedly putting on a set of thick oven gloves, and removing the pan from the area. Placing it down on a nearby red, heatproof mat. She began to hastily blow down on the foam, watching it disperse with every gust of breath Pouring it out into her stainless steel colander, Kyrie shook it a few times to allow the last of the excess water to dissipate and she then carefully spooned it out onto a nearby plate.

Kyrie slid the plate across the counter. “It's probably too over-cooked to be used at dinner. So you can test out that… _invention_ on it if you want.”

Nero gazed down at the stringy cluster of pasta. Hesitantly, he approached it with his mechanical prosthetic. Making sure to keep his bicep as relaxed as possible whilst sliding the fork end of the arm into the knot-like mess. Once he felt the position was right, he squeezed his bicep tightly. Causing the arm to begin to rotate at a rapid speed, gathering up the pasta until not a single strand was left on the plate. 

It honestly felt incredible. The weight of the sheer amount of pasta he had gathered up, almost made it feel like he was holding a real ball in his hand with the amount of strain that was being placed on his upper body in order to keep it upright. No menial feat by any means. But, Nero was so overwhelmed by accomplishing this simple task, he didn’t really care about any of that. Instead, finding himself attempting to eat a few of the loose hanging strings off his fork, like it were cotton candy. Far too watery and dull to be enjoyable to any normal, sane human being. But to the young man who was so tightly embraced by his own joyful hysteria - it was the most delicious thing on earth. He downed the whole thing in a matter of minutes. Much to the shock of his best friend and lover watching on from the sidelines.

When not a single strand was left on the fork. Nero spun around with a sparkling glint in his eyes. The bright, boyish smile Nico so fondly remembered returning to his lips.

“Thanks Nico." He said tenderly. Letting his warm hand come to rest on Nico’s shoulder.

From that day forth, the gunsmith would aspire to do anything to keep that smile on his face. No matter what kind of crazy arms she’d have to come up with. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the positive feedback! Its been really wonderful to get, and has certainly made my first time publishing go a lot better than I had been imagining in my head! 
> 
> Tumblr: https://louadorable126.tumblr.com 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and prepare for some Vergil content tomorrow! :D


	3. Fashion - (Vergil, Lady, Trish, Dante)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> Much like many of the stories this week, each one had been a challenge for my writer’s skills. This one was certainly no different.
> 
> When I was planning this out, I thought: “Hey! These guys will bounce really well off each other!” And while that was certainly true. I’ve never had to write something so dialogue intensive! (O_O;)
> 
> Anyway, aside from that, I found this to be really enjoyable to write! (Mostly because Vergil is a disaster and I love him) But also because I got to explore characters such as Trish, who I’ve never really written before.
> 
> Coming up with outfits was also pretty enterianting too! I probably spent far too long on pinterest looking for clothing ideas for certain characters to wear! (Shhh I was enjoying myself!)
> 
> Oh and a quick warning! This story is pretty long! There will be a few like this popping up throughout the rest of the anthology! So be prepared for that.
> 
> But enough said, I shall leave you in peace! :D

The soft pattering of a nearby shower, lulled Vergil into a state of relaxation he thought not possible within his brother’s filthy domain. 

Sitting alone on a ramshackle couch, Vergil let out a relaxed sigh, as he tenderly sipped on his tea. Savouring the sweet taste of the tea leaves, on his tongue for a moment. Before carefully lowering his cracked, red mug back down onto the nearby coffee table. The devil turned his attention back to his book. His sharp eyes critically scanning over the fine printed words of each page, before quickly flicking to the next. He had only started reading this book this morning. But within the two or so hours since he had woken up, he had already made it through a quarter of the book.

Vergil liked to pride himself on his ability to quickly speed through any book he turned his attention too. It was a talent he had acquired over many years of research of his father’s power. He could only stay in certain places for so long, and so it had become critical for him to obtain the most information, out of a large backlog of texts, in a short period of time. 

But…he didn’t need to do that anymore, did he? He had obtained the power he had so desperately wanted for so many years. And now, he was at a loss with what to do with himself. 

Coming back from hell into regular life was….an adjustment to say the least. Sure, Dante was trying his best to help him with the transition. But having to live in this…establishment, wasn’t exactly what Vergil was expecting. Still, it gave him the opportunity to finally put his swordsmanship to use in a field he was familiar with. It still amazed the devil, that he could actually be paid for hunting demons! When before now, he had only seen it as a matter of his own personal survival. 

_I suppose I should give my brother credit, if he was able to come up with a sustainable business by monopolising our demonic heritage like that._ Vergil mused idly, as he pushed back a stray hair from his forehead. Turning his head towards the bathroom door. _How unlike you Dante._

He could hear his brother’s awful singing leaking from the bathroom. It sounded as though he was trying to recite a heavy metal track from memory. But all Vergil could hear was the incoherent screaming of intelligible words, that only the local cats and dogs could understand! While this would normally be an annoyance to the devil. The mere sound of his brother’s voice was...comforting after so many years of separation. 

Vergil shook his head. Now was not the time to dwell on things like that. The past was in the past, and there was nothing he could do to change what had happened. He should focus on the present, and moreover, the book that was in his hand-

The doors of the shop flew wide open with a crash. “Good morning! Anybody home?” Chirped a familiar, feminine voice. Vergil quickly snapped his head in their direction. 

“Dante is in the shower.” He snapped without thinking, as the intruder caught his eye. He spotted Lady leaning against the doorframe nonchalantly. The morning breeze ruffled her brown locks as she grinned at him. But, there was something off about her. She wasn’t in her normal garb, rather she looked more…casual? “I assume he will be out in a moment.”

“A moment!?” Came the chuckle of another women, emerging behind Lady. Vergil froze at the sight of her. “Please, Dante takes at least an hour to get out of the shower!"

The she-devil wearing his mother’s image waltzed into the building, playing with her nails. Walking around the couch, she crashed down onto the seat next to him. While part of him felt disgusted looking at this creature who had stolen his beloved mother’s form. He couldn’t help but remember how Trish had so kindly helped him when he was V. Holding onto him tightly as he had dangled from the edge of that cliff in Redgrave. It was a debt he would have to repay at some point, and so he held his tongue as he hesitantly asked; “How do you know that?”

“Well, let’s just say working with your brother for so many years gives you insight on these things.” Trish shrugged. 

“Amen!” Cheered Lady from across the room.

“How pitiful.” Vergil muttered to himself. Closing his book with a loud snap, and putting it down onto the coffee table. Before turning his attention back to his brother’s friends. “May I ask why you two are here then?”

“Well-“ Lady started, before she saw the blond devil reach for Vergil’s tattered coat. Pulling at and examining the ruined clothing item, as though she were examining her son’s clothing. Something the brunette could see the white-haired man had picked up on, and was extremely unnerved by. If his unnaturally panicked expression, and wide blue eyes was anything to go on. 

“The underworld certainly did a number on you two, didn’t it?” Trish asked curiously. Rubbing the frayed hem of his dark coat, between her soft fingers. 

“I’m surprised that you came back in anything less than tattered rags- uh! Hey!” The she-devil cried, as a forceful hand grabbed her wrist and ripped it from the coat. Vergil backed away into the furthest corner of the couch. His toned arms wrapped around his chest in a protective embrace of his coat. 

“Don’t touch me.” Vergil growled in a defensive voice. Before realising he was overreacting. He let out a deep sigh, and let the tension drain from his body. Running a hand through his snowy locks. 

“I’m sorry. I should not have acted like that.” He said softly. Bowing his head ever so slightly in shame. “I’ll look to have my coat repaired in the near future. It shouldn’t concern you."

“Well true. But I suppose that brings us to why we are here today!” Came a voice from behind. Vergil jumped a little when he found Lady bending down over the armrest, next to him. Her hot breath tickling his neck, as she whispered ominously into his ear; “We’re going on a tiny-winey shopping trip, and you're going to be our companion whether you like it or not!”

“A…Shopping Trip?” Vergil asked in a confused voice. What a strange thing for these women to threaten him with. “Why me and not Dante? Surely you two are closer to him.”

The two women started at each other for a moment. Their rapid eye movements acting as silent conversation of their own. Until finally, Trish relented and flicked back her blond hair behind her ear. 

“To be blunt Vergil, you dress like you've escaped the Victorian period.” The she-devil said simply. 

Vergil raised a fine eyebrow. “I’ve what?” 

“I mean in all fairness, you have gotten better over the years, Vergil!” Lady reassured him, patting his shoulders softly. “But, we know how hard you are trying to fit back into normal society, from what Dante has told us. So me and Trish thought that maybe we could help you in some way. By helping you to still look classy-” The brunette rubbed her reddened cheek, with her finger, in embarrassment. “Well, definitely still classy. I don’t see you being anywhere near as good looking, in any other style!”

Vergil looked blankly at Lady. It only took the foolish women a second of contemplation to realise what she just uttered in his presence. Her pretty, heterochromatic eyes looked as though they were about to bugle their sockets in horror. “W-wait! Ignore what I just said you bastard!!” She yelled, flustered. Frantically waving her arms around in panic.

Trish burst into fierce laughter at her friend's antics. “What I think Lady is trying, and failing to say. Is that we want to help you look more _normal_ Vergil." She said softly. 

_Look more normal?_ Vergil had never particularly been one for fitting in with the crowd. Not only out of his own personal stubbornness to look the way that he and he alone desired. But also because his birthright never granted him such luxury. His unnaturally white hair always being a constant source of attention for those around him. But his clothes….he had never considered them as being _peculiar_. Although, thinking back, it was unlikely anyone would have dared to tell him that they were atypical from the norm when he was younger. 

_I would have cut them down from where they stood if they did._ Vergil smiled faintly in reminiscence. His hand instinctively moved to Yamato, that was leaning against the crimson couch beside him. Softly tracing his beloved katana's ornate guard with his fingers. 

_A trip out might be a nice break from Dante, and his...homely abode. I’m sure my little brother won’t mind my absence._ He thought to himself. Quickly sneaking a glance at the bathroom door that showed no sign of opening any time soon. His lips pressing together into a line. _What is the worst that these women can do?_

“Alright. It seems I have no choice in the matter.” Vergil conceded. Rising from the couch and grabbing hold of his Katana.

“Hell yeah! Time to go shopping!” Lady cheered with a fist pump. Before waltzing over to the front door. Vergil followed along soon after; his trench coat billowing behind him in the chilly, autumn draft flooding through the entrance way.

Once outside, Vergil unsheathed his blade. Expecting they were going to be using portal travel to get to whether they were going. He could work out the finer details of where they were going while they were traveling through the subspace between the underworld and the human realm. But just as he was about to slice the fabric of reality in twain. He felt a small hand grab his wrist.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” Lady cried. Looking back and forth between Vergil and his drawn blade’s sharp edge in confusion. 

“Opening a portal. It's how I get between places.” He stated simply. Equally confused as to why this woman had a problem with it. “I assume you and your friend don’t want to be walking to the shops.”

“Vergil, opening a tear in reality every time you want to go somewhere is not…particularly normal?” She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Me and Trish were thinking of taking- ah!"

Lady quickly rushed over to an old, flaming red convertible, parked near the Devil May Cry shop. She leaned back against its bonnet and gestured to the vehicle with her hand. “This old girl. I’m sure your brother won’t mind if we take her out for a spin!” Lady grinned.

Vergil suddenly felt incredibly nervous. He remembered the last time he had been a passenger in a vehicle, for the first time in two decades if not longer. Having to be subjected to that girl Nicoletta’s nightmarish driving. Having absolutely no control of that death machine's movements. No control over the situation. He couldn’t stand it-

“I’m not getting in that-“ He began to state defiantly. Before the obnoxious jingle of keys cut him off. Lady tilted her head to the side and gazed over his shoulder. Vergil followed her trail of vision, turning around to find Trish standing before them. Held above her head was a set of keys, that the she-devil happily shook with a smug look on her face.

“I found them~” She laughed in a sing-song voice. One which sent a shiver down Vergil’s spin at its familiarity, as she carelessly strutted past him and towards Lady. “Honestly, Dante should get better security.”

“Oh god! Where did he hide his keys this time?” Lady asked. Snatching the keys from her friend and examining them with a critical eye. 

“Bottom right draw, under a pizza menu.” Trish chucked wildly. Throwing open a wide palm, to which Lady quickly dropped the keys back into. “Only took about a minute of searching to find them!" 

_Only a minute?!_ Vergil thought horrified. He knew his brother wasn’t the most careful of people when it came to…well, life in general. The pizza boxes and empty beer bottles laying around the shop were enough evidence to prove that. But he never though Dante could be _this_ incompetent. 

“I’ll see to it that my brother finds somewhere _safer_ to store them in the future.” Vergil stated firmly, bowing his head in shame. “I apologize for not being more vigilant with these things.”

“Hey! It's not your fault, Vergil!” Lady reassured. "Dante’s an idiot. He’s been like this for years!”

“I doubt that even if you helped him. He would still eventually revert back to his current ways.” Trish sighed sadly. Before she gazed up at Vergil with a soft smile on her face. “But, don’t think you're a bad older brother because of that.”

For a moment, his mind blanked completely at the sight of it. That she-devil’s smile. Whilst he liked to claim it was a poor imitation of that of his mother’s. It was far too similar for him to see her as being anything else but his beloved matriarch. 

“Thank you mothe-“ Vergil slammed his mouth shut, and gagged down the words with an awkward gulp. What on earth was he doing!? He frantically racked his mind for a way to cover up the words he had almost so foolishly let slip from his lips. “Thank you _Trish._ We should get going. I assume we would like to avoid the traffic.” 

Without another word he walked past them. His demonic aura bitterly cold to the blond she-devil, like invisible frozen daggers were being scattered out from him and being thrown into her. Devil’s aren’t particularly affected by the cold. But Trish couldn’t help but rub her shivering arms. Something that looked awfully strange to Lady, given the day’s pleasant weather.

Vergil climbed into the car and asserted his claim over the passenger seat. Holding Yamato close to his chest, as the other two women soon joined him in the car. They seemed to wrap some strange rope around their bodies, plugging one end into some sort of holster with a satisfying click. It was a strange ritual. One that he had not seen performed before by anyone in Nicoletta’s van. 

_Perhaps, it's something only reserved for those in cars?_ He mused curiously. Raising a hand to his chin. _Or maybe it's something Nicoletta doesn’t subscribe to in her recklessness? Blast! Both cases are equally as likely!_

Yet, unbeknownst to Vergil, who was still lost in thought at the sight of this strange action. Trish swiftly inserted the keys into the vehicle. The car suddenly came alive with a sound liken to that of a thunder crack.

The elder son of Sparda let out a panicked yelp. Taken by surprise at how violently the car's body shook at the ignition of the engine. Causing the two women burst out laughing.

“You need to put your seatbelt on Vergil! Otherwise, this is going to get a hell of a lot worse when we get going!” Trish yelled over the roar of the engine. Quickly summoning a pair of black shades over her eyes, with a click of her fingers, in a flash of yellow lightning. 

“What?!” Vergil couldn’t hear a word of what the blasted woman was saying!

“Here let me help you with that!” Lady called from behind. Bending over and wrapping one of those bizarre ropes across his chest. Plugging into a nearby holster on the other side of him. 

Vergil tried to turn his body, so he could thank her. But found himself restricted by the rope. The more he fought against it, the more constrained he found himself. Its iron grip tightening around his being. Once or twice, he came tantalisingly close to ripping it off with his demonic strength. Coming ever so close to feeling the satisfaction of being liberated from its grasp. To be able cast it aside, and never having to lay eyes on the wretched thing again-

The devil’s crusade against his seatbelt came to an abrupt stop; as Trish suddenly slammed her heels onto the accelerator, and the car zoomed away down the street.

* * *

As the car came to an abrupt stop, in an obscure side road near the shopping mall. Lady swiftly raised her hands into the sky, and stretched her aching limbs. Letting out a happy sigh of relief, as she felt the tension drain from her shoulders. She was never particularly fond of car seats, finding the open backed saddle of her motorbike far more preferable, for even the shortest of trips. 

Looking around at her fellow passengers. Trish seemed perfectly content with herself, as she removed the keys from the vehicle and checked her makeup in the rearview mirror. Pursing her lips together, as she applied her demonically summoned lipstick to her mouth. With a playful wink to her own reflection. 

Vergil on the other hand….

Well if Lady had to put it bluntly, it looked as though the lofty, eldest son of Sparda was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Tightly gripping his seat belt and sword, as though his life depended on it. His white hair had flopped down over his forehead. Having most likely been forced down from its usual stubborn tieback due to the blistering winds, that had assaulted them all sides throughout the journey. 

Yet Vergil, unlike his normal self, wasn’t doing anything about it. No, he simply looked forward into the distance with wide, glassy blue eyes. As though he were some sort of religious seer, being granted some miraculous vision into the future. 

_Oh boy. He sure didn’t enjoy that._ Lady warily placed a hand onto his broad shoulder, wanting to wake him from his shell shocked stupor. But the moment the devil huntress’ fingers brushed against his coat, the man jolted violently. 

_Shit! Please don’t stab me!_ Lady panicked, as she quickly withdrew her hand. Putting on an awkward smile as Vergil snapped his head around to glare at her from beneath the shadows of his unruly locks. 

“I am _never_ riding in one of these death machines again.” He growled through gritted teeth. 

“That’s alright.” Lady reassured softly. Wanting to defuse the situation as gently as possible. Tenuously balancing on the precipice of an incredibly volatile Vergil. "But aren’t you going to need to ride back to the shop-"

“I can teleport.” Vergil huffed, abruptly turning away from her. Sapping his head towards the idly humming she-devil beside him. His wild, long hair swing in unison like a creature of its own. Still bound to its distressed master’s wishes. 

"I swear that even Nicoletta’s god-forsaken driving, is vastly superior compared to whatever suicidal feats were being performed by you, Trish. Could you be _more_ reckless women?! Vergil berated angrily. While this kind declaration from the devil, would normally install a paralysing fear in whichever unfortunate soul was at the end of it. Lady couldn’t help but find it utterly adorable, how this bone chilling wrath could so easily be naturalised by Vergil simply having his hair down. It just made him look far younger and softer than he actually was. 

Trish grinned wickedly at the flustered man. Much like Lady, completely unfazed by his anger. Instead, she snuck an elegant finger under his chin, lifting his reddened face to meet her’s. “What can I say, O’great Demon King? I drive like I fight~”

Vergil growled in annoyance, and removed her finger from his chin. He looked away from her; stubbornly gazed at the chewing gum laced pavement beside them. Running a hand through his snow locks, and slicking it back to his preferred style. Shattering the illusion, as he returned to his usual elegant and poised self, only a moment later. His pale features schooled back to their normal stoic pre-set. 

Leaving the two of them to bicker it out in a battle of awkward silence. Lady got out of the car and headed down the road to a nearby, rusted parking machine. After a few minutes of kicking the surprisingly sturdy machine, the stiff gears inside the box began to loosen. Finally giving way, and allowing the machine to come alive long enough to spit out a single ticket. The devil huntress may as well have won the lottery with that piece of paper, with how closely she held it to her chest. Taking the utmost precautions to protect it on the way back to the car. 

At the sound of her footsteps, Trish stopped playing with her nails, and perked up at the sight of the brunette. “You got the parking tickets?” She asked, getting out the convertible. 

“Yep!” Lady grinned. Handing the ticket over to the blond woman, and letting her place it onto the dashboard. 

Vergil seemed to pay no heed to them. Simply looking off into the distance as he brooded. Lady strolled around to the other side of the car. Taking him off guard again once again, as she prodded his muscular arm. 

“Come on drama queen.” She laughed softly. Opening the blue devil’s door, and gesturing him out onto the street like an enthusiastic hotel valet. "We best get going! The clocks ticking on this parking and I’m not giving those greedy bastards any more money!”

“Fine. I’m coming.” He grumbled, as he pushed himself up from his crimson leather seat. Immediately, he began to strut down the road ahead of the two women. Yamato in hand. 

“Hey, where do you think you're going with that?” Trish called out behind him. Vergil was confused for a moment, raising an eyebrow as he tried to decipher what on earth she was talking about. Nothing he had on him was out of the ordinary-

“I’m talking about your sword, Vergil.” The blond devil mercifully explained, gesturing to the weapons grasped tightly in his hands. "You’re going to have to put it in the trunk.”

“Are you insane woman?” Vergil snapped in disbelief, pulling the sword closer to his side protectively. “What? So I can be defenceless if we are suddenly attacked?” 

“I doubt anything like that will happen.” Lady chimed, as she fiddled with her tartan scarf. “I would have brought Kalina Ann if that was the case. And anyway, you’ll just draw more attention to yourself carrying that around.” The huntress began to chuckle. "I can already hear the women and children running away in fear!"

Vergil grunted in annoyance at her antics. Turning away from the women once again. He tensed for a moment, as an internal debate raged in his mind. His logic and reason fiercely battled it out with his gut instincts. While every once of his demonic being told him that he was never safe. That it would be a foolish idea to abandon his beloved weapon for an insignificant shopping trip. Another... _strange_ part of him, recognised that if he wished to integrate into normal society. He was going to have to concede to some of their standards. 

As V he had been weak hadn’t he? Yet still, he was able to survive and face whatever the demon world or human society had thrown at him. Why now, at the peak of his power, couldn’t he do the same? As much as he stubbornly denied her claim, Vergil knew deep down that Lady was right. The underworld had been sealed away, and by his hand no less. The chances of a demonic ambush were…unlikely. 

Vergil sighed, and spun back around; wordlessly walking back to the ruby convertible. Tenderly, he placed his blade into the trunk’s tight cavity. The long katana only barely managed to fit inside the space. Vergil could feel Yamato’s annoyance at the whole situation. Its low, sub-conscious hum growing stronger, pulsating like an erratic heartbeat in the back of his mind. As though it were whining like an indignant child. 

The Son of Sparda placed his pale hand onto the sleek, ebony holster of the ancient blade; patting the weapon ever so slightly. _I promise I’ll return soon._ He soothed. A small smile sneaked onto his pinkish lips, as he felt the blade return to its normal gentle song in the back of his mind. Pleased with its master’s promise.

Just as he closed the trunk's hatch with a heavy slam. Vergil felt a pair of soft hands touch his back. “See that wasn’t too hard? Now come on, we gotta get going!” Lady impatiently called from behind, as she began to gently push the well-build man down the street. The familiar sound of Trish’s high-heels clicking along beside them, as the group marched towards the mall. 

* * *

_This building…I don’t remember this being here._ Vergil thought to himself, as he looked around in amazement at the mall’s grand, glass architecture. 

He had lived in Capulet for awhile when he was younger. Before his self-imposed exile into the underworld. And while his memories of that time were fragmented and hazy - the only clear images he could recall being of that stormy night atop Temen-ni-gru - he couldn’t for the life of him remember anything else but an interconnected hive of filthy strip clubs and off-licence stores being here. Not a clean architectural wonder like this!

“I see you like this place, Vergil.” Lady smiled beside him. Holding his arm, as she pulled him through dense, suffocating crowds. "Who would have thought your obsession with summoning phallic towers, would lead to a pretty decent mall being built down the line?” 

“I don’t believe it either.” He mumbled softly. Barely audible to anyone but himself.

Eventually, the group reached their destination. A four storey department store in the centre of the mall. After some slight prodding from Trish to get Vergil one of the many escalators, after the devil point blank refused to get on the moving stairwell. The trio slowly made their way up to the 4th floor of the building. 

Lady was the first to reach the floor. Having absentmindedly gotten on the escalator before realising, halfway up, that Trish and Vergil were still on the ground floor. Arguing. It was only sometime later that the two devil’s appeared. Vergil’s signature white hair appeared over the vertical horizon. Then his handsome face. The tense pull to his pale features softening greatly, upon laying eyes on the solid ground above him. Trish stood behind him. Her manicured hand resting against the small of his back. Acting as a safety net, preventing him from falling backwards. 

Trish gestured to the floor above them. “Look, we're almost there-“

“I hope whoever designed this _thing_ is burning in the lowest circle of hell. It's unnatural for stairs to move like this.” Vergil grumbled. "Why couldn’t they just build a regular stairwell?”

“You underestimate how lazy people are!" Trish chuckled, as they reached the top of the escalator. 

Just as the metal staircase was about to disappear from under them. The blond devil gave Vergil a light shove, signalling him to start walking. He complied with her wordless request, safely making his way onto solid ground. Preventing the inevitable trip up both women feared was about to take place.

But Vergil was completely oblivious to the anxieties of his companions, as he strolled forth into the open area before him. Utterly entranced by his lofty surroundings. As though he were the first to discover some strange new land, and now stood looking out at its glorious edifice. The floor’s purpose rapidly became apparent to him. 

Men’s clothing. 

A lot of it too. Far too many clothes for one sane person to own in their entire lifetime, maybe even into the next. Racks upon racks of different designers clothes lined the shop's floor. Not too closely stacked to one another, that manoeuvring between two displays would be difficult. But also not leaving much space free either with some of the elaborate displays dubiously bending around the rules- such as a miniature woodland hut being built on a small section of allotted land, to show off a range of lumberjack style clothes. 

Granted, not all the clothes on display were…particularly of Vergil’s tastes. Some were completely impractical for the current season. _Why would anyone want to wear a swimsuit in the middle of autumn? Do they wish for a swift and freezing death?_ Vergil wondered, as he mindlessly strolled over to the display, to curiously examine one of the jet-black boxers hanging there. But all in all, many of the clothes sold here seemed to be of good quality. Something the Darkslayer took pride in, and wanted out his clothes above all else. 

While Vergil aimlessly strolled around the shop floor, examining the odd shirt or tie now and again. The two women set to work scavenging the maze of displays, to find something remotely acceptable to put their fashion disaster of a companion in. Calmly debating what style they should go for with his clothing.

“WHY ON EARTH DO YOU THINK HE WOULD THAT?! VERGIL WOULD IMAPLE US WHERE WE STAND IF WE SHOWED HIM THAT!” Lady screamed. Pointing a finger at a black leather coat and corset combo, held up by a proud-looking Trish. 

“Well V certainly liked it! Who's to say Vergil won’t?” Trish argued, holding the ridiculous outfit close to her chest protectively. “And anyway, I thought we agreed that we would have a little _fun_ with him today~”

“I’m not betting my insides on that!” Lady rebuked, gesturing to her stomach. She pouted and looked away. "At least you can recover from getting stabbed!”

Trish could help the overwhelming giggles rising up her throat, at how adorable her friend looked. “Alright then. I won’t show him.” She declared. Mercifully putting the outfit back onto a nearby rack. “But what are we going to put him in then? 'Classy goth’ isn’t exactly the easiest thing to find!”

Lady hummed to herself for a moment. Trish wasn’t wrong about the awkward nature of the outfit they were looking for. It would have to careful balance of tasteful edginess and gentlemanly class. All the while still looking casual. 

She threw a hand up to her forehead in defeat. _You’d think with all the clothes they have here, there must be something-_

The huntress chain of thought came to a blinding halt, as she noticed a display out of the corner of her eye. Then an idea hit her in that moment. One which would need to be acted on quickly before it faded from her mind.

“Trish, can you grab that coat for me?” She asked, motioning to the rejected outfit beside Trish.

“Sure.” Trish nodded and picked up the hanger, and removed the corset. Leaving it on a nearby table of tall dark boots. 

Lady rushed over to this table, and began to flip the shoes upside down to check their sizes. “Hey, do you know Vergil shoe size?” She called over her shoulder. 

“I assume it's the same as Dante’s. Ten.” Trish shrugged. Staring at brunette inquisitively. “What? Did you have a sudden spark of inspiration?”

“Something like that, yeah!” Lady cried, as she ran over to the display that had caught her eye. One apparently paid for by the designer 'Mili' if the giant, mock-vintage wooden sign, hanging above the area was anything to go by. 

Carefully, she ran her hand through the several shirts on display. Before letting out a joyful cheer when the huntress found what she was looking for. Lady span around and handed Trish a jet-black shirt to hold onto, as she moved to another area of the display in the blink of an eye. Returning with a pair of tight black, leather jeans and a necklace that hung a single, fake obsidian gem. 

“Right that should be everything!” Lady smiled happily, leaning back against a nearby pillar. Completely oblivious to the utterly stacked Trish frantically trying not to drop everything in her hands, beside her. “Got anymore ideas?”

“Yes I have a few.” Trish replied in a strained voice. Wobbling slightly as the pile came close to collapse, with the slightest movement from the boots. “But, we’re getting a basket before that. I’m not carrying this around the whole time!”

* * *

 _Well this is…unexpected._ Vergil thought, as he was met by the sight of Lady and Trish. Having returned from whatever excessive tangent they had been on; drowning under the weight of the clothes in their baskets, and slung haphazardly over their shoulders. 

“Do you think I really need all these clothes?” Vergil asked, slightly breathless. Overwhelmed by the inordinate amount they had gathered for him. He dread to think what the cost of it all must be. “I'm perfectly comfortable with a....minimal amount of clothing."

“Hey don’t worry! You're just going to be trying some of it on.” Lady reassured. Only to suddenly gulp as she looked around at the clothing surrounding her. The realisation of how much she and Trish had gathered dawning on her. “I don’t think my wallet would be feeling too good if we bought everything here..”

Vergil scowled at the two women. “And you think that I’m simply a dress up doll to be played with? To be thrown into whatever clothes you desire I wear-” 

Vergil was abruptly cut off, as a ginger-haired shop assistant appeared from the shadows behind him, and prodded his shoulder blades. “I’m sorry, but is there anything I could do to help you sir? You friends look rather over-encumbered!” She asked politely. 

The darkslayer was about to let his displeasure of being touched known to this impudent woman. When Trish smothered Vergil's mouth with her hand, before he had a chance to speak. Abandoning one of her baskets on the floor. “Yes. Do you know where the dressing rooms are?” 

“Oh, of course! Right this way!” The women beamed with a manufactured smile. One that looked rehearsed in training to be used when dealing with customers. 

After picking up Trish’s basket for her, the shop attendant led the group to a quiet part of the floor. Where one of many men’s changing rooms resided. They weren’t much. Simple closed off cubicles leading out onto the main shopping area. Equipped with a basic bench and coat hanger inside. While a light blue curtain acted as the only form of privacy, protecting the modesty of whoever was inside, from the outside world. 

Once the shop assistant had hurried off to the next customer who had caught her eye. The trio were left entirely alone in the area. Trish and Lady took the opportunity to dump their clothes onto the floor, and begin to sort them into piles. While Vergil meticulously examined the cubicles curtain. Rubbing it between his pale fingers to see how thick the material was. Only to frown deeply in disappointment, when he found it to be paper thin. Easily displaying the silhouette of his finger on the opposite side, in the store’s artificial light.

 _Great. I might as well keep them open with how little this blasted curtain is going to leave up to the imagination!_ Vergil sighed. Casting aside the fabric in his hands, and turning back to his companions. 

Lady and Trish had managed to sort their incoherent mess of clothes into three distinct piles. Each one neatly folded up on the ground. Just waiting for him to try it on. _Damn them and their efficiency!_ He cursed. Watching the pair bounce their gaze off the clothes, the cubicles, and then back to their un-willing victim; a wicked glint in their eyes. 

Lady moved to pick up the first of these outfits. Swaddling the mass clothing in her arms, she carried it over to Vergil. Dumping the heavy load onto him. “Right, this should be everything.” She muttered to herself, as she did a quick last check of the items in his muscular arms. Nodding to herself in satisfaction, when she found everything to be present and correct. 

“Yup you’re all good. Now go! Get changed!” The huntress nagged like a busy-body mother. Gesturing for Vergil to enter the cubicle.

Vergil sighed, and without a world of complaint, walked into the cubicle. Slamming the curtain shut with a loud squeak. The curtain’s hangers scraping along the steel bar from the sheer force and speed of the devil’s tugging. 

The two women, with nothing else to do while they waited, watched the silhouette of the man as he changed. Watching curiously as he slid his long-trench coat off and hung it up on the coat hanger, removed his tattered gloves, and ever so carefully unzipped his top and letting it effortlessly drop to the floor; revealing-

All of a sudden, two spectral swords materialised into existence behind them; pressing their razor-sharp tips to the back of their necks threateningly. Causing two women jolted in surprise. 

“No peeking!” Came Vergil’s firm voice from behind the blue curtain. The silhouette of his head snapped directly towards them. Trish could only imagine the full brunt of the withering glare being thrown at them from behind the fabric's thin protection. 

The blond devil raised her hands in surrender. “We’re looking away!” She called back. Ever so careful with her tone of voice, so not further antagonise him. Turning away from the cubical and pretending as though she had only ever been looking at the wooly jumpers on display behind her. 

“Yeah!” The brunette beside her quickly added, following suit. 

“Mmmm” Vergil hummed in approval. Before going back to changing. The summoned swords stayed firmly in place, until the curtain re-opened. The white-haired man emerging fully dressed. 

The two women let out a deep sigh of relief. The feeling of a great weight having been lifted from their shoulders, as the constant pressure that had been pressing against the back of their necks left them. The phantom swords vanished into thin air on their master’s command. Letting them know that it was safe to turn around and look at him. 

The darkslayer wasn’t exactly impressed with what he was wearing. Sure, it was comfortable. Not clinging too tightly to his skin, while giving ample room to move his arms and legs without feeling restrained by the fabric. But, there was something about it that was….unsettling him. Something he just couldn’t put his finger on, as he fiddled with the obsidian necklace around his neck. 

“Hey! Looking good, Vergil!” Cheered Lady, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looked up, finding a wide eyed Mary grinning proudly at her handy work. 

Trish, on the other hand, gave him a far more critical look. “No, something is off.” The blond devil mused. Crimson lips pursed together, as she tapped the side of her cheekbone thoughtfully.

Then all of a sudden, her whole body energetically sprang to life. Dramatically clicking her fingers, as a ‘Eureka moment’ hit her. “Ah ha! I’ve got it. Vergil, can you stand still for a moment for me?”

“Sure...” He replied hesitantly. Carefully observing the vestige of his mother cautiously approach him. 

When Trish crossed the threshold of his personal space, and stood face to face with him. Slowly but surely, the blond woman raised her hand to his snowy hair. Ruffling it up and uncoupling the soft strands of his hair from their stubbornly fixed positions. Letting them delicately flopped down in front of his face. Before moving part the newly formed fringe aside to match that of an eerily familiar, ebony hair man from a few months ago. The devil’s white hair doing little to break such an illusion. 

Surprisingly enough, Vergil didn’t particularly mind - what would normally be - an utter violation of the sanctity of his hair. If it were anybody else, they would have been thrown across the store had they laid a finger on it. Let alone cause it to become so disheveled. But there was some, deeply sentimental part of him, that couldn’t help but remember how his mother used to play with his hair. How she would run her fingers through it and ruffle it to her heart's content. He never minded. He had his mother’s attention for once. And...always enjoyed the warm, comforting sensation of her fingertips against his scalp. Vergil supposed it was this very reason why he granted Trish this rare grace. Letting her continue her work, until she was finished with no interruption. 

Trish backed away. Tilting her head slightly to see if it worked from multiple angles. Before nodding in approval. “That looks about right, doesn’t it?"

“Oooooo yes! Damn! Why hadn’t I thought of that?” Lady sulked. Dropping her head down in defeat. 

Trish chuckled and patted Lady on the head, like a mother soothing her disappointed daughter. “There, there! You’ll get an eye for these things as you get older~”

“Oi! You’re younger than me!” She cried, offended. Shaking Trish’s hand off her head, and pointing an accusing finger at her.

Trish smirked and looked back over at Vergil. “This is going to take awhile. How about you go check yourself out in a mirror? I saw there was one just around the corner” She said. Gesturing with a tilt of her head to an open area to the left of them.

Vergil let his gaze follow the direction she was pointing too. Brushing back a small strand of hair that had gotten a little too close to his eyes, before nodding; “Alright. I should only be a minute."

He left the pair to playfully bicker, as he strolled around the corner. Scanned the area for this ‘supposed’ mirror. Trying his best to settle the gnawing anxiety in the bottom stomach; wondering what kind of state he would find himself in. 

_It can’t be that bad. I doubt Mary would have such an awful taste in fashion._ Vergil mused to himself. No longer needing to worry about the formalities of calling Mary whatever strange nickname she had picked for herself. He couldn’t help but smile to himself at the thought. _Trish seems unaware of her true name. Does that make it a secret between me, Dante and herself? I…suppose it does. How curious-_

“Ow!” He hissed painfully. Smashing his head against somebody else's. He quickly threw a hand to his cheek; rubbing the reddened area that had begun to swell. Before moving to glare at the stranger who had dare crossed his path. Surprised one person could be so solid-

It wasn’t a person. 

Well, it **_was_** a person from a certain point of view. A reflection of someone uncomfortably familiar to the devil. One which had been unavoidable to see in every shattered mirror, or fragment of broken glass in Redgrave a few months ago. Vergil’s breath caught in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut. Forcefully willing his racing heart to slow down, as he tried to maintain a tight control over his breathing. Breathing in…and out. In...and out. In...and out-

Once he felt the rush of adrenaline leave his system. He cautiously peaked an eye open. Then another. 

It took him a second of staring into his reflection, to come to terms with the fact he had been foolishly overreacting. While there was certainly a...striking similarity between him and his human side. Vergil was actually quite surprised to find that he actually looked rather good in this ‘Gothic’ style. While the outfit itself was a little too street-casual for his liking. Had he more of his son’s youthful temperament. Perhaps, he would dress like this more often. 

Yet, he could not escape the constant underlying nag, remaining him of that time of weakness, while wearing this outfit. With this long, parted hair. Vergil sighed, and instinctively ran a hand through his hair; slicking it back once more. The ghost of a smile sneaking onto his pinkish lips, at the return of his former hairstyle. 

Meanwhile, back at the changing rooms, Lady and Trish had seemingly long since passed the climax of their bickering. Neither not really knowing what to do to entertain themselves, in the dull silence left behind. Trish leaned back against a nearby pillar and played with her nails. While Lady sat on the floor and mindlessly watching people go up and down the escalator, through a small gap between the displays. Until the soft pattering of footsteps against the laminate floor, alerted the pair to Vergil’s return. 

“Welcome back! How was it?” Trish asked.

“I’m not keen on the outfit.” Vergil said simply. Taking off the dark leather coat and handing it to her. 

“Aw, damn! That’s a shame.” Lady sighed. Dragging herself up from the floor, and brushing down her legs. “I was really hoping you’d like it. 

Vergil merely shrugged in response. Not feeling comfortable elaborating further with his reasons against it. 

Lady walked over to the second pile of clothes. Retrieving the neatly folded stack from the floor, and dropping it into Vergil’s arms. “Hopefully this one will be better.” She reassured with a smile. Patting down the coarse fabric with her hand, before withdrawing it back to her side.“You chose this one didn’t you Trish?”

Vergil gazed over the huntress’ slim shoulder at the blond devil. Trish nodded. “That I did.”

The darkslayer raised an eyebrow curiously. _So Trish was behind this one..._ He mused. Looking down at the pile of clothes in hands. Unsure what lay beneath the large, grey coat sitting idly on top. _Let’s hope she hasn’t picked anything like her normal wear._

And with that, he vanished into the cubical once again. 

* * *

Well this certainly wasn’t where Dante thought his morning would take him.

It had been an eventful one to say the least. Getting out of his morning shower to find his brother having vanished into thin air, and his beloved convertible stolen from outside the shop. His first thoughts had jumped to his brother running off on some joy ride around the city. But he had quickly shot the idea down when he remembered that Vergil couldn’t drive. Well…at least that he knew of. Fuck knows what kind of secrets that aloof bastard still had up his sleeve!

No, what was far more likely was that the Ladies had taken it. He’d tried to call them. But neither were picking up. Always going straight through to their voicemail every time. Something that seemed especially strange in Lady’s case, as someone who always picked up the phone immediately after the first dial. Always rearing for any new jobs, or an opportunity to remind him of his soul crushing debt with her. Yet, there was nothing but silence from her or Trish. 

It was only after he went back outside again, did he sense it. The distinct, demonic scent of Trish, masking the area where the car had vanished. The dull traces of an icy aura, interlaced within. 

From there, Dante simply hopped on Cavalier and followed the trace. Eventually winding up at the shopping mall across town. 

_Heh! So they stole my car and came all this way to go shopping. Nice play ladies!_ Dante thought to himself with a proud smirk, as he made his way through the mall. 

He entered the department store, and soon found his way to the men’s floor. A growing confusion building in his mind, as to why they came here of all places. Dante doubted they’d come all this way for a “welcome back from hell” box of underwear. _Hell, they'd be about a week too late with that at this point!_

 _“_ Hey, so do you think-“ The sound of a familiar feminine voice reached his ears; only to be cut off by the sound of someone accidentally knocking something off a nearby display, hitting the ground with a loud crack. 

_Crap!_ He thought. Spinning his head around. Trying his best to locate the source of the voice once again. Strolling past the profusely apologising customer grovelling on the floor before one of the staff. _They’ve gotta be somewhere around here somewhere! They can’t have gone far-_

Out of the corner of his eye, Dante spotted two figures leaning against a pillar a few aisle back. The short mop of brown hair, and elegant golden tresses, easily giving away their identities. The devil hunter came to a grinding halt. Boots struggled to maintain friction on the smooth laminate as he stylishly spun around. 

He snuck up behind them, taking cautious measured steps. Neither sensing a thing as they idly chattered to one another. Dante pressed his arm against the off-white pillar, just above their heads. Letting his body weight be supported by it. He leaned in behind them, so close that the ends messy hair almost tickled across the back of their necks.

“Well what do we have here!” Dante proudly uttered. The pair, startled by the sound of his voice, let out a sudden collective yelp of surprise. Jolting forward, and hurriedly turning to face him. Shock-still. 

A wide grin appeared on Dante’s face at their panicked reaction. “I hope you two have been having a good day. Because you’ve sure made mine a hell of a lot more interesting!” 

“Uh, h-hey Dante! It's good to see you!” Lady stammered. An awkward smile plastered on her face, as she rubbed the back of her head. “What do you mean by that?”

“My car and darling big brother went missing, around about the same time, this morning. A strange coincidence, wouldn’t you agree?"

“Well…I-I mean you know Vergil! He’s probably just off on some power high!” Lady chuckled, uncomfortably. Dante raised an eyebrow at how strange she was acting. “You’ll probably find him shouting about ‘his devil’s power’ down the street at some point! I’m...not sure what I can say about your car though-

“You will probably find it soon enough Dante!” Trish gracefully interjected. Putting her hands on her hips, as she tried to maintain her composure. Sneaking a worried glance back at the cubicle. “If you want, I can come help you find it after this-“

Dante held up his hand. Silencing her. “No need Trish. I already found it.” He said smugly, crossing his arms. "You did a good job parking it, I’ve got to say! Choose the cheapest area to stay and everything.”

Trish looked as though she had turned to marble under his gaze. Mouth ajar, as she struggled to come up with a response to being caught red-handed. Eventually, she relented and threw her hands up in defeat. “Fine, we took it!"

“See that wasn’t so hard!” Dante chirped. “I guess that solves one mystery. Speaking of which, I’m flattered you came all this way to get something for little old me!”

“Pffff, get off your high horse Dante! I’d like my money first, before I’d ever get something for you!” Lady snapped, pointing an accusing finger to Dante’s chest. 

“Yeah yeah yeah, I get it! You’ll get it at some point!” The devil hunter sighed dramatically. Grabbing her wrist and removing her dagger like finger from his chest. “But seriously, why are you ladies in the men’s section-”

Dante suddenly froze when he felt it. The same familiar frosty sensation he had felt traces of earlier, now overpowering as it tickled the hairs of the back of his neck. Dante now clearly recognised who he had been feeling, and almost kicked himself at the realisation. His demonic side hissing _“ ~~Twin"~~ _

The devil hunter pushed past the two women. Earning an annoyed grunt from the pair of them, as he rushed over to the cubicle. Without thinking ripping off the flimsy curtain from its hangers to find-

His brother…shirtless?

“DANTEEEEEE!” Vergil screamed angrily, throwing a heavy punch into his brother’s stomach that sent him flying across the room and into a clothes rack. Implying him straight through the chest as he crashed to the ground.

A cry of panic rang out amongst the crowd of customers, as they began frantically fleeing the scene of the incident. A collective hysteria overwhelming them. Dante hazily looked up from where he was lying. Directly across from him stood the visage of his elder brother. His face flushed bright red with embarrassment, as he self-consciously tried to cover his pale, muscular chest with his arms. His sharp eyes twitching with a malicious glare, that might as well have been impelling Dante a second time.

Dante pushed himself up from the ground. Carefully manoeuvring his torso, as he dislodged the sharp metal bar rammed through his chest. Casting the steel bar aside, and letting it fall to the floor with a heavy clank, when he had successfully removed it from his body. 

“Geez Verge. It took you all of 10 seconds to start destroying the place.” Dante taunted, examining the chaos surrounding him. “You know I’m not paying for any of this-“

“Do you ever think before you act, you foolish idiot!” Vergil snapped angrily. His sharp nails clawing into his porcelain skin angrily; close to drawing blood. 

“Heh! Can’t say _either_ of us ever have bro~” Dante grinned, brushing down his blood stained shirt. As though it would somehow miraculously remove the drying blood from it. “You’ve got a son to prove that!”

“Shut up!” He growled in a low voice, through gritted teeth. Before suddenly turning his back to the disheveled wreck of a devil hunter. “If you’re so desperate to prove you're the competent one, _brother_. I’ll let you explain this to the masses."

“Hey! What do you mean by that Verge-“ Dante started to retort, when suddenly he realised what his brother meant. Surrounding him was a mob of customers, watching the two twins in shocked awe. Not a single voice left any of them as they stood there deathly silent. “Oh shit.”

Dante quickly looked back to where his brother was standing, only to find that he had vanished into thin air. Having returned to the cubicles in the blink of an eye. Scooping up the abandoned pile of clothes - that had been left in the destroyed changing area - he moved to the next cubicle down. Slamming the curtain shut with a loud scraping sound. The faint embers of blue energy still lingering in the air from where he had teleported.

The devil hunter broke out into a nervous sweat, as all eyes were now fixed on him and him alone. This wasn’t exactly the easiest of situations to explain to the average person. As he stood in a puddle of his own blood, having miraculously recovered from being seriously injured only moments ago with no complaint. What could he say!? _Oh I’m part demon. Don’t worry about it guys! It's all cool!_

Just as Dante was about to enact his final resort of running away as far as possible. Trish mercifully stepped in front of him. Turning to the bemused crowd. “Alright, nothing to see here people!” She exclaimed in her usual sing-song voice. Slapping the legendary devil hunter hard on the back. “Look, he’s perfectly fine and healthy-“

All of a sudden, Dante gurgled up a delayed surge of blood. Coughing violently, as the thick, red substance oozed from his mouth and dripped to the floor. 

“Maybe not so much.” Lady chimed in from the side, as she quickly rushed to Dante’s aid. Taking out a tissue from her pocket and wiping away the blood from his mouth. 

After another two surges of blood. The devil hunter had seemingly recovered from whatever freaky shit his body had been getting up to. He gave the two women and the crowd a reassuring thumbs up, once his head didn’t feel as though it were about to fall off from lightheadedness, and the overpowering dizziness that came with it.

“I’m alright.” Dante slurred. Finding it hard to speak with his mouth slicked full of blood. Out of reflex, he gulped down some of it. It’s rich metallic taste tingling his tongue, as he managed to clear enough of it to speak properly again. If not somewhat weakly “You heard the lady. Move it!”

A few in the crowd hesitantly nodded at his command. With many leaving the area, as the crowd began to disperse over the next few minutes. Continuing on with their shopping and pretending as though they hadn’t seen anything; as they actively avoided looking in the direction of the scene.

“Thanks for that Trish.” He said softly. Taking another tissue from Lady and wiping away the last of the crimson substance from his lips. “You to Lady. Damn I sure wasn’t expecting that!”

“You’re a real dumbass you know that?” Lady sighed. Facepalming into her hands. "If you’d just waited a second longer we'd have told you about Vergil.”

“Yeah sorry about that.” Dante apologised, as he rubbed the back of his neck. "But I’ve got to say. That’s damn impressive of you two ladies to get Vergil of all people to go shopping! Was thinking of getting him some new clothes anyway. So you’ve saved me a job.“

And it was true, they had. Granted, Dante had assumed he was going to have to drag his brother kicking and screaming to the nearest supermarket to buy some clothes. But honestly, he hadn’t even considered taking Vergil to a fancy clothes shop. It was a genius idea thinking about it now. His brother couldn’t really complain that anything here was below him, when everything was so painfully expansive. _Dammit Verge, why have you got to have such expensive tastes!_ Dante cursed.

Speaking of the devil, Vergil suddenly emerged from the cubicle. Now fully dressed in his new get-up, as he strode over to the group.

A long grey, cotton coat hung from his sturdy frame. Elegantly matched by a frilly collared white dress shirt. A deep V cut revealing off his collar bone to the open air; tickled ever so slightly by the ends of the soft folds in the frilly material. A node script pair of dark ashy trousers complimenting the dark colours of the stylish outfit. 

But what stood out most to Dante, was the pair of silver rimmed glasses on his brother’s face. Something that just seemed like an absurd vanity item, when he knew the both of them had near perfect sight, thanks to their dear old dad!

“Seems as though you're finally feeling your age, Verge! Should have guessed you'd gone senile from all the stuff you’ve been pulling recently!”

Vergil came to a sharp stop. “ _What_ do you mean by that, Dante?”

“Look bro, I know the glasses are shiny and all. But you really don’t need them.” Dante said. But his brother was having none of it. Deep lines began forming on his forehead, as his face morphed into a full blown scowl. Dante simply shrugged off his brother’s brewing anger, and turned to Lady with wide puppy eyes. "Come on, back me up here Lady!”

“I think it looks cute.” Lady complimented. Placing a finger on her chin, as she thoughtfully examined Vergil. “Matches the nerdy, bookworm half of him, he likes to pretend he doesn't exist.” 

Dante couldn’t help but grin at _that_ compliment. “So he’s finally accepted his nerdy side? I’m so proud of you Verg-"

“I’m not the one who chose this outfit, you idiot!” Vergil interrupted. Pointing an accusing finger out at the blond she-devil. "Trish did!” 

Everyone snapped their heads in Trish’s direction. The women seemed relatively relaxed, despite suddenly being put on the spot by her not-so-distinguished peers. Trish flicked her blond hair back over her shoulder as she walked into the centre of all three of them. 

“Yes Dante, this was my choice. And I agree with Lady, he looks rather dashing in those glasses. You just have no taste.” She said proudly. Causing Vergil’s cheeks to warm ever so slightly at the compliment from his mother’s clone.

It felt as though he were being praised for keeping his shirt cleaner, far longer than Dante ever could. A strange buzzing sensation, like a swarm of over excited butterflies had been let loose in his stomach, appearing at the simple thought of such admiration.

“No Taste? Aw, come on Trish! Don’t break my heart like that!” Dante cried melodramatically, clenching his bloodied chest as though he had been gravely wounded yet again. “I have perfectly good taste!“

“If I remember correctly, _brother_. When I fought you at Temen-ni-gru, you looked as though you had just stumbled out of that god-forsaken strip club next to your shop.” Vergil commented critically. A weary smile forming on his lips, as he fondly thought back to that time. Now seeing the more humorous elements of that life-changing night, he hadn’t considered up until now. "I don’t have particularly high hopes for this supposed ’taste’ you speak of."

Lady shrugged in agreement. “He’s not wrong Dante. You being a stripper was my second thought after realising you were a demon.”

Trish suddenly buckled over in uncontrollable laughter. Desperately, she fought to maintain control over herself as she was brought close to tears. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, removing the transparent liquid of joy that had formed there. “Oh that must have been a sight! I’m just upset I wasn’t around to see that!” She chuckled, breathless.

“Oh don’t worry Trish! I’ve seen he still keeps that damn stripper outfit in his closet. Maybe one day you can see him in it.” Lady reassured, walking over to Trish to pat the hysterical women on the shoulder comfortingly. "Well, if he even still fits after eating all those pizzas and strawberry sundaes!”

“Oi! I can probably still fit into it!” Dante stated proudly, pulling on the sides of his crimson leather coat. Only to suddenly grow more self-conscious under the trio’s disbelieving gaze. He rubbed the side of his stubbly cheek with the palm of his hand. “And even if I can’t. It’s just because….I’ve gotten more muscular as I’ve matured! Yeah! Same goes for my sense of fashion. Thank you very much! I mean...I look stylish right now, don’t I?"

There was nothing but awkward silence in the wake of his question. Neither one of the trio wanted to break the bad news to Dante. Even Vergil didn’t want to do it. Finding it was far too much fun watching his brother squirm in the nothingness, then relieve him of his worries. His cheerful expression slowly dropped to one of wounded pride across his scruffy face. 

Yet, unbeknownst to the two twins. A mischievous idea started to form in the back of Trish’s mind, upon catching sight of a red and black wooly scarf laying, having fallen from the destroyed display, on the ground behind Dante. 

Wordlessly, she turned to the shorter woman beside her, and whispered something into her ear. Lady looked back up at her. Surprised. But it was not long until a sinister smile started to form on her face, as she realised what Trish was planning. The huntress nodded eagerly to her friend's request, before running off to another part of the floor. 

Then, with her heels clicking against the floor; Trish strutted over to Dante. Bending down to pick up the scarf, before playfully draping it over Dante’s shoulders. The devil hunter glanced to his side, and Trish a confused look. Only having enough time to see the devilish grin on her dainty face, before she placed her hands on his back and gave him a mighty shove. Pushing him towards the dressing area against his will. 

“H-hey, Trish! What are you doing?” Dante asked, flustered. Trying to dig the heels of his boots into the slippery floor, to resist her with little success.

“Getting you changed of course! You don’t want to stay in those bloody clothes do you?” She stated simply, as they passed by a stoic Vergil. Seemingly not planning on doing anything to help his little brother escape the women’s crazy scheme. 

“Yes! At home! Not right now- Hey!” Dante yelped, as Trish spun him around, and dragged him by the scruff of his coat into the depths of the changing room. Slamming the blue curtain shut with herself inside.

Vergil watched on in amusement, as the silhouette of Trish began to forcibly strip his brother of his blood soaked clothes. Dante backed up against one corner of the small cubicle as Trish removed his shirt. 

“G-get off me Trish! You’re not my mum!” He cried fearfully, as he tried to push her away with frantic arms. Finding little success, as she stubbornly ripped his shirt in half and threw its tattered remains out over the top of the cubicle. Narrowly missing landing on Vergil’s head, as the devil quickly stepped back to avoid it. 

Speaking of the devil, Vergil couldn’t help but delight himself in the schadenfreude that came from watching his brother be manhandled by the vestige of his mother. _I suppose there is something of mother in her after all. She was always forcing Dante to change out of his dirty clothes like this. It's nice to see that hasn’t changed._ He thought fondly, running a hand through his hair. 

It was then, that a sudden rumbling like thunder, rang out behind Vergil. He turned around sharply, preparing for a fight. Only to find an out of breath Lady, and the ginger haired shop assistant from earlier, pushing a full rack of red-hued clothes towards him. The pair ran as fast as they could, until they reached their destination. Unable to control the rack's momentum. 

“Vergil, we could use your help right now!” Lady yelled in a strained voice. Dashing around to the other side of the rack, as she desperately tried to push the heavy, fast moving object, away from the changing rooms it was about to collide with. 

Not wanting to pay more for anymore damages caused from today’s little trip, Vergil rushed to the huntress aid. Moving beside her, as he swiftly halted the rack where it stood with his demonic strength.

Lady let out a sigh of relief, as she leaned back against the frontal pole supporting the rack. "Cheers for that", she huffed in Vergil's direction between a few deep breaths. Wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. 

She unhooked a selection of clothes from the rack, and passed them through the thin curtains to Trish. Who proceeded to force Dante into them. The flimsy plastic walls of the cubicle coming dangerously close to collapsing on multiple occasions, as Dante kicked out like a wild animal and tried to break free from her hold; causing them to wobble violently.

But eventually Dante finally surrendered to Trish’s control. Seemingly accepting of his fate, as she carefully tied the stripy red and black scarf around his neck. Taking extra care to make sure it wasn’t too tight, or his long hair was caught up in the soft material. Before, Trish put her hands on his shoulders and nodded in approval. Opening the curtain, and walking out ahead of Dante. Her body obscuring the other’s view of him, until she stepped aside and gestured proudly to the outfit Dante so stylishly modelled. 

Trish certainly had an eye for colour, Vergil decided. With both of their outfits, she had masterfully matched their usual motifs of colour with a slight twist to it. And this was certainly no different. His brother was dressed in a dark rust coloured, sharkskin jacket. Underneath lay a rather comfy looking black flannel top, with the red and black scarf peacefully resting atop all of it. The only part that looked vaguely uncomfortable was the skin tight onyx jeans that clung to his legs like its life depended on it. Vergil would have assumed that Lady had gotten the wrong size for him, if it weren’t for how comfortable his brother was wearing them. 

Dante to, examined himself curiously. Surprisingly happy with the results. If not still slightly traumatised from the forceful changing he had been subjected too, as he remained incredibly stiff and rigid where he stood. He pulled on the cuffs of his jacket; “I guess all that suffering was worth something after all…” He muttered quietly to himself. The hint of a smile appearing on his lips.

“Oh wow! You certainly have good taste, madame!” The shop assistant suddenly piped up from behind the group. Walking between the two brothers as she gestured her arms wide open to the both of them. “I mean look at these two! They look incredible!"

“Thank you very much! I pride myself on these kinds of things~” Trish exclaimed happily. Placing her hands over her heart. 

“Yeah, apparently that includes man handling your boss.” Dante grumbled. 

The blond she-devil walked around to Dante, and playfully poked him square in the forehead.“Now don’t go complaining Dante! You heard the lovely woman had to say.” Trish said in an almost motherly voice. One that Dante instantly felt uncomfortable refusing, given how close to home its tender sound resonated within him. The devil hunter had to guess it was this same innate weakness that both he and his brother shared, that Trish had exploited in getting his older brother to agree to come on this trip in the first place.

“Yeah I guess you’re right.” Dante sighed in defeat. 

“So, at what point are we going to be paying for these outfits?” Vergil bluntly cut in, causing the whole group towards him. The Darkslayer seemingly growing more impatient, as he subtly tapped his foot against the floor. “I assume you people don’t want to spend your whole day here.”

“Pfff! You underestimate women, Vergil” Lady chirped, winking at him. “Me and Trish would gladly spend another four hours shopping-“

“Please don’t.” Vergil shuddered. A look of disgust stretching across his stoic features at the thought. 

“Alright Alright! We can go if you want!” Lady relented, waving her hand around in defeat. “Trish, can you grab Vergil’s and-“ She looked down at the torn black shirt on the ground. “I guess whatever remains of Dante’s clothes, and bring it with you?”

Trish nodded. “Sure can do.” She said, simply. Before running off to retrieve the twins clothes from the messy cubicle. 

* * *

It was early afternoon when the group arrived back at the Devil May Cry shop.

Lady drove the red convertible back, after Dante had lost the will to live upon receiving the final, all-consuming bill for his clothes and the repairs that the store’s supervisor demanded he pay for. Once paid, it had been Vergil who all but carried his little brother back to the car in his near catatonic, delirious state; placing him in the backseat. Repaying the kind favour Lady had done for him - by sticking to her word and buying the devil's clothes out of her own pocket. No strings attached. 

Trish meanwhile took to driving Cavaliere back home. The rumbling of the demonically infused motorbike thundered down the road behind the convertible. Until, Lady finally parked the car in an isolated spot outside the shop. Trish parking her bike right up against the crimson vehicle, and softly putting an end to the bikes final roar, as she removed the keys from the bike. 

“All home safe and sound!” Trish cheered, dismounting the motorbike and walking over to the convertible. Leaning against the Lady’s door playfully. 

“I don’t think the same can be said for Dante.” Lady rebuked. Rubbing the back of her neck. “I...think we broke him.”

She looked over her shoulder at Dante; curled up in a foetal position, as tight as his seatbelt would allow. “3000 pounds, 3000 pounds, 3000 pounds...” He mumbled to himself over and over in his daze. Rocking back and forth.

"He’ll be fine. Just get him some Pizza, and he’ll forget he’s even spent that much money.” Trish gave a dismissive hand wave. “Dante was like this when he got his last coat. Misread the label and thought he was getting it for 80 pounds. Turns out, it was 8000 instead!”

Vergil hid his face in his palm. “I fear for my brother’s intelligence sometimes” He sighed deeply. 

How could his brother make such an idiotic mistake?! Vergil would have thought he deserved to be without water and electricity for the month as punishment, if it weren’t for fact he too would also be affected. And now that he had returned to the human world. He would not so easily surrender his privilege of a warm shower if he could help it!

Lady continued, her dark brown hair swaying in the breeze, tickling her nose. “Anyway, we should probably get him inside. What do you want to take Trish? His legs or his head?”

Trish looked over at the traumatised devil hunter. Eyeing him up for a moment with her emerald eyes. “I’ll take the legs.” She decided, pointing to the lower half of his body.

The two women made quick work of moving Dante. Lady got out of the car, and forcibly pried open Dante’s defences. Quickly sneaking her arms under his shoulders, as she pulled his limp body up from the car. His head bobbing up and down; continuing to mumble to himself, wide eyed. Trish rushed in to grab his legs. And after a copious amount of strain as heaved the well-built, but weighty Dante into the store. They all but dropped his heavy ass down onto the sofa. Accomplishing their task, and collapsing onto the sofa either side of him. Exhausted.

Vergil, meanwhile, had only just gotten out of the vehicle. Stopping to simply gazed up at the sleazy, neon red sign hanging above the shop’s doorway. Its welcoming glow dulled by the mid-day sun; reflected in the deep blues of the demon's eyes.

Despite the day’s hiccups, Vergil couldn’t help but admit that it had been a rather nice day, all in all. Probably the closest he was ever going to get to this seemingly abstract concept of ‘normal’, he could only ever dream to grasp. His cursed life, endless battle, and his little brother making sure of that. But Vergil did not mind that one bit. It had certainly made today more exciting than it otherwise would have been without it. 

The Darkslayer carefully pushed his new glasses back onto his face. Peacefully letting his eyelids roll shut of their own accord. Allowing himself to enjoy the gentle sounds of the world around him-

“LIKE HELL AM I PAYING FOR YOUR PIZZA!”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I hope this was enjoyable! Hurt/Comfort is more my forte, so comedy was a fun experiment to try out for me! (Although I couldn't help but sneak a little angst in there for good measure! >:D)
> 
> Oh! And I went for pounds as the main currency here, as I assumed Capulet is likewise in Britain similar Redgrave. Since both cities are implied to be nearby each other. 
> 
> Tumblr: https://louadorable126.tumblr.com (Support is very much appreciated over there! <3)


	4. Reflection (Dante, Vergil)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Coming up with the concept for this one was actually quite hard! See, there is an awful lot of “Reflection style” fic already out there. Meaning it was quite hard for me to come up with something that hadn’t been covered before. (Although, if I may shout out overtture’s “Sanctuary” as being probably one of my favorite fan fictions in general and is well worth a read!)
> 
> So, being left in this position - I’ve had to come up with something a little...outside of the box. After cracking me and my friend’s collective brain cell together for ideas, we came up with this storyline! 
> 
> This story is set when Dante and Vergil are about 17 years old. So pre-fortuna and DMC3. I’ve kept certain elements from the DMC1 novel, such as Dante’s amnesia, but also kind of thrown other elements out the window entirely. (Sorry Gilver!) 
> 
> I’ve also taken quite a lot of inspiration from Cloud’s hot mess of an identity in FF7. So it's been fun to explore elements like that in Dante/Tony’s character!
> 
> Oh, and before I go! I should say this story can be taken as a sequel to my Sunday one! So if you want to take that angle, be my guest! :D
> 
> Anyway I shall not keep you any longer! Enjoy!

_ Stupid rain!  _ Tony cursed. Shaking his head like he was a wet dog, as he strolled down the tightly packed street filled with the brim with evening shoppers and people simply trying to make their way home. His frozen hands buried deep within the pockets of his crimson coat. Trying to seep up the very last ounces of his body heat before he lost all feeling to them.

Today hadn’t gone particularly very well to say the least. Having been given the job of tracking down a missing young woman, from a very wealthy family. His search had led him to some fancy shoe shop she apparently was a regular at. Lo and behold, she was there. But, unlike the timid and quiet young girl her family had described. Something seemed…off about her. Especially when she started growling and hissing at sight of him. It was only after a fight issued, that wrecked the shop to the point a bulldozer may as well have run through it, that Tony realised the woman had been under the possession of some kind of demonic influence. The situation was resolved in the end, after he'd knocked her out by smashing a chair against her delicate head. Thankfully when she finally awoke, she was back to normal....if not slightly traumatised about the whole experience.

The only issue came when he finally got his money. When that damn shoe shopkeeper had to go ahead and take a good 3/4 of his earnings! Ok, granted Tony had totally wrecked their shop. But, it wasn’t his fault some crazy lady suddenly started attacking him!

Tony sighed and ran a hand through his soaking white locks. Narrowly missing somebody bumping into his shoulder, with an uncomfortable twist of his broad torso, as somebody rushed past him in the other direction. 

_ Now I remember why I hate crowds. Why did I think this was a good idea to take this route, again? _ Tony thought, as a grunt of annoyance escaped his lips. Drowned out by the sounds of the busy world around him. 

All he wanted to do was get back to his nice warm apartment, take a piping hot shower, crack open a beer and bury his miserable wet ass under a pile of blankets. The sooner the better! He didn’t think he could take much more of this crappy weather or Tourists halting in front of him every 5 seconds.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony noticed a narrow alleyway tucked between two nearby buildings. As shady as i t looked, cloaked in shadow even from t he hectic main road. The white-haired man didn’t spare the blindest thought to any of that. Simply wanting to seek an escape from this hellish mob of people he was currently surrounded by, as he dived into the crevice. 

It was almost as though he had entered into another world entirely. As the thick, brick walls towering around the young man, easily blocked out much of the sound from the adjacent street. It was eerie in a way. While Tony knew that the city's homeless and local graffiti liked to inhabit areas like this. There was absolutely no sign of anyone other than him stepping foot into the area. Well, not like he could see that much at all, given how dark it was! The only light source visible was from the pale moonlight streaking down from above in small patches. 

Cautiously, Tony started to stroll down the claustrophobic alleyway. The hairs on the back of his neck prickling, as that uncomfortable feeling from before, during his dealings with that girl, returned in full force. Yet...there was almost an icy intensity to it. More bitter and razor sharp than any natural chill that Tony had ever felt; burrowing its way deep into the depth of his soul. 

Tony subtly moved his right hand to rest against his pistol’s holster, hanging off his leather belt. Each step he took, slowly feeding the ominous dread building up inside his gut. His mind far too caught up in his own, swirling, panicked thoughts of what creature might lurk in this domain. What was waiting to pounce on him at any moment-

“Ow! Fucking hell!” Tony hissed, throwing a hand up to his forehead, as he collided with something hard. A wall perhaps?

Hesitantly, Tony looked up and found cloaked figure standing before him. Also clutching their forehead in pain. “Watch your language! I doubt your mother raised you to speak like that!” The strange figure snapped angrily, through gritted teeth. 

Tony seized up at the sound of that voice. There was something…painfully familiar about it. A certain nasally quality Tony swore he recognised from somewhere. Yet, when he tried to recall when he had heard it. His mind point-blank refused to surface anything from his hazy past. Nevertheless Tony could feel his aching heart screamed out in pain at the familiarity of it. 

The figure noticed Tony’s hesitation. He raised his visibly pale chin high to look down at the young man. “What? You have nothing to say in defence of yourself?” He asked in a smooth voice. 

The young man choked on his own breath. His eyes seemingly glued to the sight before him underneath that blue hood.

It….was like looking into a reflection. A biological mirror that shared every striking feature he had. The same sharp,  cerulean blue eyes. The same ghostly pale skin, that further emphasised their high cheekbones. The same prominent jawline. The same unnatural white hair, despite their youth, peaking out in stray strands across the stranger's forehead. Fuck, even down to the same smug twitch of the lips, they were identical!

Tony staggered backwards, as far away as he could get from the identical stranger, until his back collided with the wall behind him. His breathing grew more erratic by the second. 

“Who the hell are you!?” Tony gasped out in a raspy voice, between breaths. Glaring up at the impassive cloaked figure. His field of vision started to blacken in corners. “W-why do you have  _ my  _ face!?” 

The figure’s mirror-like face suddenly dropped its smug look of superiority, as moonlight briefly streaked across Tony’s face. An audible gasp escaped them as they recoiled in shock. 

“Dante?!” 

~~_ Dante! Stop drawing on my books! _ ~~

_~~I want chocolate!~~_

  
  


_ ~~I hate this song. You changed it again didn’t you?~~ _

~~_Leave me alone. I don’t want to play right now._~~

__

_ Happy birthday, brother... _

It was too much for Tony’s fractured mind to take. Darkness soon clouded his vision entirely. Leaving his senses to dull one by one, as he fell deep into unconsciousness’ warm embrace. 

* * *

_ Well this was certainly…unexpected.  _ Vergil thought to himself, as he started at the unconscious body, laying propped up by the alleyway wall, before him. 

He’d always had his suspicions that Dante had somehow managed to survive the fire. The lack of a corpse when he had frantically searched the house as a child, had given him that smallest ounce of hope that they might one day be reunited. That his mother’s favouritism had finally served his little brother well. 

Yet now that the time had come, and rather too abruptly for Vergil’s liking, it was an oddly surreal experience. While the physical evidence lay before his eyes, Vergil’s stubborn mind refused to accept that such a miracle could ever happen to him. It certainly hadn’t done for the past 9 years!

Kneeling down beside the sleeping figure, Vergil tentatively grabbed ahold of his brother’s sleeping chin. He took a moment to appreciate the smoothness of his brother’s pale skin. Running his fingers over it and caressing it, allowing himself to feel physically connected to his brother in a way he hadn’t felt in years. He brushed aside his brother’s long strands of snowy hair covering his face, with his other free hand. Making sure it was out of the way, and safely tucked behind his ear. Before raising the limp man’s face to meet his.

_ I see we are still identical after all this time, brother.  _ Vergil thought, with a conflicted smile, as he mindlessly tracing the young man’s hard jawline with the tips of his fingers. Despite growing to adulthood, it seemed that puberty and age did nothing to shatter the illusion that they were anything less than perfect reflections of each other. Much to Vergil’s annoyance; who had been banking on the pair of them growing out of such a bothersome phase, and becoming more individual in their features as time went on. 

“And he has the audacity to claim I stole his face.” Vergil chuckled brokenly to himself. Allowing himself to collapse to the ground beside his brother. “How like you to be so selfish brother! It's good to see that hasn’t changed.”

Of course there was no response from him. 

Vergil sighed to himself, and moved to pulled down his hood. Finding peace in the comfortable weight the azure drapery provided, as it rested against his broad shoulders.There was no need to conceal himself here. He highly doubted that his natural hair colour was going to be attracting anyone's attention here, and it wasn’t like Dante would particularly care if he awoke. His little brother probably had far more pressing questions for him, if the volatile state he was in before passing out was anything to go by. 

It was as though Dante didn’t recognise him at all. The way he acted so blatantly horrified by his presence certainly set off several alarms in Vergil’s mind even without his brother’s fearful cries asking who he was. Had...Dante forgotten who he was?

A sinking feeling swelled within the devil’s gut. He hated the idea of that. Life couldn’t be that cruel to him. To be finally reunited with his brother, only for Dante to not remember him…he may as well have lost him twice. 

The young man shook his head dismissively. Loosing the tight fitting cravat around his neck, before reaching down to retrieve his mother’s amulet from under his leather vest. He clutched it tightly in his fist, not caring for how it’s sharp golden edges came close drawing blood, as he held it close to his forehead. 

_ But it’s the most likely option isn’t it? Why else would Dante be acting this way? That panic he displayed….I don’t think he’s capable of faking that.  _ He thought despairingly, letting his eyelids roll shut. No longer wishing to look upon the world that had treated him so cruelly-

“Verge, I don’t wanna tell mum…”

Vergil’s eyes snapped open. He quickly turned to look at the unconscious man beside him. Seemingly pouting in his sleep, as his body jolted in areas with subconscious activity.

“You know she’s gonna be mad….cost a lot of money…” Dante mumbled incoherently. His vocabulary far to child-like to be that of a recent memory. 

So Dante did remember him after all...or at least their childhood. Vergil had the faintest recollection of what incident his sleeping twin was referring too. When they were younger, Dante had shattered one of their mother’s crystal vases during a sword fight between the two of them. Having smashed the fragile glass with a heavy strike, Vergil had narrowly ducked under, that had collided with the expensive vase on display behind him. Vergil could recall how much his little brother had freaked out when he had realised what he had done. 

“You should tell her.” Vergil muttered softly. Playing along with his brother’s recollection.  _ “It’d be better to tell her now,  _ then face her wrath when she discovers what you’ve done.”

“You’ll...stand beside me….right? Don’t think….I’m..brave enough.” Dante asked weakly. 

“Of course Dante.” His twin replied in a soft voice. Hesitantly reaching out to lightly pat his sleeping brother shoulder. His movements quick and light, unsure how to provide the affection his brother so craved. 

A small smile crept onto Dante’s lips. “Thanks Vergil.” He murmured softly, before falling silent again. 

_ At least he seems happy in his recollection.  _ Vergil reassured himself. Swiftly withdrawing his gloved hand back to his side, from where it was no longer needed. To know that his brother long term memory was still intact, was certainly a relief too Vergil. Perhaps, with a little more prompting his twin might recover. But as to what could have caused such memory loss, was still a complete mystery to the young man. 

The devil began to fiddle with the golden amulet in his hand. Appreciating the distinct groves and clear-cut edges of the amulet's crimson gem, as he mindlessly ran his fingertips across its smooth surface. Finding pleasure in the subtle stimulus it provided; giving his usually astute mind an outlet to express his struggle in solving such a conundrum. 

He highly doubted it was caused by any sort of head trauma. Their demonic side would have seen to that. 

There was always the possibility of a demonic influence being responsible for stripping his twin of his memories? But even then, Vergil would have assumed any demon powerful enough to be capable of such a feat, would've seen more value in killing a son of Sparda, than toying around with his brother’s mind. 

After several minutes of racking his brain for possible answers, Vergil sighed in defeat. He was going to have to look in to this. Yet another chore to add to his mounting pile of research. 

_ Until then, I should probably stay away from him. After…that reaction, pushing him further seems like a bad idea,  _ Vergil decided, a frown forming on his lips. It didn’t matter how much the devil wished to stay by his brother’s side. If past experiences were anything to go by, his pesky emotions would only cause more damage to those he loved. 

~~ They always had done.  ~~

Vergil pushed himself up from the wet ground, and began to brushed down his clothing. His broad figure obscuring his brother in shadow as he stood before him. Hurriedly checking the leather straps of his belt to see if Yamato was safely fixed to his side. Before giving his identical brother one final glance. 

Vergil couldn’t help but feel a strange, protective sensation overwhelming his icy heart, when he caught sight of the minor shivers racking through his brother’s body. The devil certainly had no issues with the cold. Having spent years on the streets building up a tolerance to the icy winds that plagued them. Yet, never considered that his brother didn’t have such immunity to these things. 

There must have been something in the way he subconsciously curled into himself to contain what little body heat he had. That made Dante seem smaller- younger in Vergil’s eyes. Reawakening the protective brotherly instincts he had thought he'd long since cast aside. 

With a shrugging motion, Vergil let something slip gracefully from his shoulders. Draping it over his twin’s slumbering form; Taking extra care to make sure it was fully covering his brother’s whole body, before withdrawing sheepishly from the man’s side. Self-consciously slicking back a few stray hairs from his damp forehead, as he gazed down at his handy work.

“I’ll see you again soon….brother” He said in a gentle, surprisingly demure voice. Before vanishing into the night. 

* * *

Tony awakened with a monster of a headache brewing in the back of his skull. 

He grunted in pain, as he squinted his eyes open. Finding the world to be a dark blurry mess for a couple of moments, before vision refocused and cleared. 

From what mercenary could make out he was still in the alleyway. Thank god! Given all the crazy things he had seen before passing out. Tony honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if someone had drugged him. His devilishly good looks certainly brought him a lot of attention from all sides of the field, and he wouldn’t put it pass some weirdo to try something. Hell, this all could have had something to do with that possessed girl earlier! Maybe she was breathing out noxious gasses or something?! Tony’s mind ran wild in its delirious state as he tried to rationalise the things he’d seen. 

_Shit, what if I've been mugged?_ The thought of losing today's already meager earnings snapped him back to the here and now, as the young man tried to pat himself down in search of his wallet only to discover something restricting his movements. Tony looked down in confusion, finding himself draped in that stranger’s deep blue cloak. Its fabric velvety soft to the touch. 

The simple sight of it caused something to snap inside Tony, like an ice sheet shattering in to thousands sharp fragments under a great weight. To which those icy fragments went flying into his frontal cortex, causing a brutal swelling sensation to flare up in his forehead. Further worsening his already unpleasant headache far beyond Tony’s pain threshold. He desperately clawed at the back of his skull, letting his fingers dig deep into his pale locks. 

_ “Dante slow down! I’m not sure I can keep up!" _ A clear voice sliced through the tortuous ringing overwhelming his ears. Tony clung onto this soft voice like a lifeline. Directing what metal energy he had remaining to focus on it, as he grit his teeth together in pain.  _ “Please can we take a break?" _

_ “Come on Verge! You think Dad’s gonna be impressed if we just stop halfway through a fight?”  _ A high pitched voice, similar to his own, accused.

_ “No he wouldn’t. But he’s not here right now is he! Ah-“  _ The sound of glass shattering followed.

_ “Oh no no no no!”  _ The high-pitched voice cried out fearfully.

A surprised gasp left the softer sounding boy's mouth.  _ “Brother, what have you done?" _

_ “I didn’t mean to!”  _ The louder boy whined.  _ “Oh god Verge, I don’t wanna to tell mum! You know she’s gonna be mad when she see this! Didn’t she say this cost a lot of money?” _

_ “She certainly did. Apparently father brought it back from Germany as a gift for their first anniversary-”  _ There was a moment of hesitation in the boy’s voice. One that didn’t quite fit with where his speech was heading. When it returned, it was far deeper than before. _ “You should tell her.”  _

_ “Wha-" _

_ “It’d be better to tell her now, then face her wrath when she discovers what you’ve done.”  _ The baritone voice stated firmly. 

_ “You’ll...stand beside me, right? I don’t think I’m..brave enough to face her alone.”  _ The high-pitched boy asked with an element of insecurity sneaking into his inflection. 

_ “Of course Dante.”  _ The voice reassured soothingly. Putting the panicked boy’s fears at ease.

_ “Thanks Vergil!” _

The conversation seemed far too coherent and familiar to be some feverish fabrication of his unstable mind. But then….why would he have this “Dante’s” memories? He was Tony. He’d always been Tony. Ever since he was a kid-

Thinking back now, he couldn’t actually remember much of his childhood before age 8. Why had he never question that? Sure, he’d always lived on the streets. But he must have had a mother and father out there! Even if they’d just abandoned him in an Orphanage, why couldn’t he remember any time of it? Had his mind been purposely censoring him this whole time?!

_ These memories….they have to be mine. There’s no other reason for them to be there otherwise. Which means I’m this Dante. And Vergil…Vergil would be my brother.  _ The young man’s unbearable headache began to recede at the sudden realisation. Leaving the poor man in a shocked state of disarray, as he gazed wide-eyed at his trembling hands in disbelief.  _ I have a brother! How could I have forgotten something as important as that?! _

It was a gut wrenching feeling, as Tony- no Dante desperately clawed for more precious memories of his forgotten brother, that his mind simply refused to give him. He couldn’t remember a damn thing about him! Why couldn’t he remember?!

Dante drew the dark blue cloak closer, burying his face in its velvety fabric. He took in its earthy scent, smelling somewhere between an old bookshop packed full of woodland aromas, and a handful of fancy tea leaves. Thoughts of the identical man's smug smile, running rampant through his overworked mind. 

Slowly but surely, he came to the conclusion that the mirror-like stranger he had encountered, couldn’t be anyone else but Vergil himself. There was no other explanation - at least that Dante could come up with - as to why they looked so similar if they weren’t related. Even if it was surreal to think that somebody with the exact same physical features as Dante had been running around for the past 8 years (if not longer) without him knowing. 

_ Heh, let’s hope he hasn’t pissed anyone off! Wouldn’t want them to mistake me for him. God knows how many people I already have on my back! _ Dante thought, with a smirk of amusement sneaking onto his lips. The sound of a soft chuckle soon filling the alleyway.

Yet, his playful facade soon faltered and failed him, as his chest became overwhelmed with uneasy tension. "Why didn’t you stick around, Vergil?” He asked the azure cloak draped across his lap, in a painfully soft voice. His deep-blue eyes filled with equal parts sadness, confusion and child-like vulnerability, as he ran his pale hand across the material. "Surely you’d want to see me again?! Its not like you didn’t recognise me.... Did we not have a good relationship before?"

Of course there was no response from the item of clothing. 

Dante sighed and rubbed his aching temples tiredly, with the palms of his hands. Mindlessly gazing out across the damp alleyway. 

He had to find Vergil again. Even if the answers he sought were not pleasant ones. A desperate desire to learn more about his fractured past now consumed him, for better or for worse. 

Pushing himself up from the concrete floor, Dante carefully folded up the large, blue cloak into a neat pile and slid it under his arm. Out of the corner of his eye, Dante caught a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby puddle. He idly wandered over to it. A wry smile, twitching with mixed emotion, forming on his lips as he stared down the identical reflection within. 

“Guess I’ll catch up to you one day, bro…”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! ＼(^o^)／
> 
> I've always thought the implications of Dante's amnesia - between the attack on the Sparda household and the DMC3 manga - has always been an interesting topic to cover. Especially what would happen if he encountered Vergil during this time frame.
> 
> I think there is a pretty good example of this at the end of the DMC1 Light Novel where he sees Gilver and freaks out. But given the hot mess of retcons that book is filled with. It was pretty difficult to find a way to apply that to current canon. So I hope I've at least somewhat done it justice for you guys! (〃∀〃)ゞ
> 
> My Tumblr: https://louadorable126.tumblr.com (Support is still very much appreciated over there! <3)


	5. Legendary/Hierarchy (Sparda, Eva, Mundus, Madame Butterfly)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> So we have finally arrived at our Legendary Dork Knight! 
> 
> It's honestly been great fun diving into some of the more obscure lore for this. I ended up having to hunt for a scanned version of the DMC1 Graphic novel for some insight into how Mundus and Sprada talked to one another. Granted, I’m not sure my dialogue is exactly that close to it. But their confrontation certainly helped me to set the mood.
> 
> Oh, and I couldn’t help but sneak in a little reference to another character from a certain “closely tied series” to DMC. So be prepared for that! 
> 
> The tea room of the very first scene was also inspired by a tearoom I was dragged too awhile back! I have to say, whoever invented afternoon tea was a bloody genius! Unlike whoever invented those damn cake stands-
> 
> *Coughs* I’m getting ahead of myself! Anyway, enjoy the story!

The soft laughter of a young woman filled the quaint tearoom, as a middle-aged waiter walked into the privately book quarters. The tray he carried was stacked high of several china cups and plates, with a silver cake-stand, full of sandwiches and scones, dubiously balancing above it all. Focusing all his attention on making sure the architecture holding up this tasty meal didn’t collapse. He approached the young couple sitting alone by the grand window overlooking the city of Redgrave.

By all accounts, they were just one of thousands of lovestruck couples he had seen eating here. Something fairly common, given the tearoom's location on the second floor of an old Victorian building, offering the perfect escape for a romantic getaway. Yet, the mysterious hooded man, who had asked to reserve this private room, unnerved him. Even as he spoke eloquently to his blond acquaintance, the waiter still couldn’t get a good look at his face. 

“Ah! Sparda! The tea is here!” The blond woman cheered, as she caught sight of the waiter entering. Putting her hands together in excitement. 

The hooded man turned to him, as he lowered the heavy tray onto the table and began to unpack it. The hint of a smile visible under the shadows of his purple hood. “So it is. Thank you.” He said, in a smooth masculine voice. Quickly placing a banknote into the waiter’s sleeve with a slight trick of the hand.

When everything had been placed on the table, the waiter quickly scurried out of the room. Not so subtly slammed the door shut behind him. Leaning back against the door and letting out a shaky sigh in relief. 

* * *

Once Sparda was sure that the waiter was gone, he moved to pull down his hood. Revealing his unnaturally handsome face, and neatly tied back white hair, to the open air. On instinct, he reached up to fix his golden monocle, only to find it not there. The devil panicked for a second, frantically scanning the room with his sharp eyes, until he remembered that he decided not to wear it for today’s outing. Especially after Eva had poked fun at his beloved monocle during their last meeting. Calling it “ridiculous" and "old-fashioned”.

 _The women used to love it._ He moped sadly. Rubbing under his eye where the monocle's golden frame would touch. _Am I really that out of touch with the last century?_

Eva, on the other hand, wasn’t at all paying the blindest bit of attention to him. As she joyfully scoffed, her mouth full of macaron, fully entranced by the delicious taste of everything available to her. 

“Mmmmmm!” She cried happily. Putting a hand up to her mouth to wipe away the crumbs. “This is so good! Come on Sparda, you should have some!"

“Eva, you know I don’t need to eat.” He said bluntly. Looking a little unsure as to what to do with himself, as he stared cautiously at the feast before him.

The blond woman pouted a little at his words. Moving to pick up a nearby teapot, and began to pour the sweet smelling tea into her cup. “Well sure! But you are the one paying for all this. You may as well enjoy yourself a little~” 

Sparda sighed in defeat. Eva made a fair point. He should at least attempt to blend in (especially if it made her feel more comfortable). 

“Alright.” He agreed in a hesitant voice. Before nervously reaching for a tuna sandwich at the very top of the cake stand. Unfortunately, he misjudged the size of his clunky human hand, causing it to collide with the stand's arched, silver frame. He let out a low growl and quickly withdrew his hand in a panic.

“It’s ok dear!” Eva reassured. Quickly bending over and placing her dainty hand on top of the stand; Not caring that the long, embroidered sleeves of her crimson dress were hanging dubiously above her murky tea. Keeping it there, until the frame’s violent tremors ceased. “There we go-“

“My apologies Eva. I should have been more careful.” Sparda quickly blurted out. Dropping his head down in shame, as he tightly clasped his hands together in his lap. He felt utterly mortified.

_I can never get things right with her. Why do I even pause this foolish aim? No amount of niceties can hide what I truly am from her…_

But to his surprise, his friend wasn’t even the slightest bit annoyed by his actions."Oh Sparda sweetie, don’t worry about it! Nothing bad happened.” Eva chuckled softly, causing the devil to look up. Her emerald eyes filled gentle reassurance, that made his heart swell tight with emotion. Never once breaking her calming gaze away from his profile, as she carefully slipped her elegant hand through the stand’s silver bars. Reaching out for the tuna sandwich her partner had wanted, and with a few hasty movements, removing it from the Jenga tower of snacks. 

"I swear these things are designed to be irritating.” She sighed lightly. Shaking her head in dismay. Before she reached out across the white clothed table, and presented the sandwich to the devil, in her open palm.

“You’re not wrong. Thank you m’lady.” Sparda smiled, taking the sandwich from her palm. Cautiously sniffing it a little, before popping into his mouth whole. Earning a hysterical laugh from Eva, slapping the table manically, as her emerald eyes welled with tears of mirth. 

The devil was confused. He hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary! This was how he normally ate food. Simply put it into your mouth, chew, swallow and look as though you enjoyed the taste of it. Why it was causing Eva to be beside herself with laughter was beyond him. _At least it seems to entertain her. Perhaps, I should continue with this._ He thought fondly. 

For a while the pair continued like this. Sparda sneaked the odd sandwich into his mouth, and pretending that he didn’t notice Eva looking at him, as he scoffed them whole. A smirk, that twitched with the ominous threat of bursting into laughter, plastered onto Eva’s pretty face at his antics. 

They would discuss subjects such as poetry, art work, and Eva’s love of pizza - a rather peculiar conversation indeed. But, it had given Sparda an idea for another trip out in the future: a lovely pizzeria in Florence that he liked to visit from time to time. Only of course, if Eva was fine using portal travel with the Yamato. 

But soon enough, Eva brought up a topic that the devil didn’t expect.

“Sparda, I...I have been meaning to ask you something for a while now. Ever since our last meeting, I have been thinking about what you have told me. That you are the real Legendary Dark Knight…” She trailed off at the mention of his true title. Raising a thoughtful hand to her soft lips, as though she was debating what to say next. Sparda could practically feel the hesitancy rolling off of her. Then all of a sudden she slammed her hand down on the table excitably.

“Screw it, I may as well be blunt! I want to know about the Rebellion against Mundus! Especially from your perspective!” Eva babbled. Only too suddenly realise how erratically she was behaving under all this nervous energy and curiosity, bubbling up within her stomach. Causing a blush to streak across her cheeks in embarrassment. She tried to calm her tone of voice; rubbing the back of her slender neck. "I’ve always had a fascination with those legends, a-and while part of me doesn’t want to lose the magic that their exaggerations may bring. I just really want to know the truth about what happened back then!” 

There was utter silence. Her friend had completely frozen at the mention of his past. His deep blue eyes were glassy. Absentmindedly starting at her, as though his mind was lost in the long distant past. Eva may have simply mistaken it as pleasant recollection, had it not been for his quick, shallow breaths and erratic eye twitches. He looked…disturbed by even the thought of it. Something Eva thought Devils were incapable of feeling. 

“I-If you’re willing to talk about it of course! I can imagine it’s a sensitive topic for your dear.” Eva quickly added, waving her hands in reassurance. She never should have brought it up, or at least done so with a little more tact, dammit!

Her gentle voice seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in, as he slowly but surely returned to his normal, stoic facade. Eva let out a sigh of relief. She desperately wanted to send a stream of apologies his way. But she knew it would look awkward, and feared that the demon may take offence to being pitied so openly. 

Eventually Eva found a compromise, as she moved to pick up the nearby teapot and pull over Sparda’s china cup. Thinking that it only seemed fair he should have the last few droplets of tea. She was just about to pour; when suddenly Sparda’s ginormous, yet surprisingly warm, callous hand enveloped her’s over the teapot. Stopping the elegant blond in her tracks. 

“Eva, you have been a close friend of mine for months now. You've been ever so kind and accepting of me. It seems only fair that I answer your question.” Sparda said softly. A look of profound longing in his sparkling blue eyes. 

He desperately wanted to tell her about that time. Even if the thought caused his dark heart to wrench with unbearable homesickness for the world he had left behind, and drown in vile disgust for the unspeakable horrors he had been accomplice to under Mundus. Eva had placed enough trust in him before, to open up to him frankly about her own personal doubts, insecurities, and the incidents she had deeply regretted in her short lifetime. It seemed only fair that he should do the same.

Sparda ran a hand through his slicked back silvery hair. Letting it come to rest on his forehead, cradling it as his head drooped low. Thumb resting ideally against his sharp cheekbone, as a low monotone voice began to slip from his lips-

He began to recount the tale...

* * *

An assembly had been called in the throne room of the Prince of Darkness, Sparda could remember that much. The hushed whispers of demonic tongue at the edge of his consciousness acted like a rallying cry, alerting him to the situation. He had legged it across the palace from his quarters. Arriving amongst a sea of the Demon King’s generals, all swarming into the grand hall. 

The devil had taken his place close to Mundus’ throne, where his Lord’s most trusted generals stood. While those of the lesser tribes were forced to stand further back. Their mere presence in this godlike dominion already an insult to their glorious King. A boundary that many of them understood and respected as such. 

Sparda himself had a slight inkling as to why this meeting was called. His apprentice, Modeus had informed him that Mundus had recently formed an alliance with a group of well... _delusional_ humans, known as The Cult of Light. Apparently they worshiped their kind as gods. Something which while amusing to the dark knight, also concerned him. Not that he didn’t trust his Lord’s judgment of course! But they seemed like fools who were unlikely to follow through with the crucial task they had promised to carry out. Opening portals to the Realm of Light. 

For a long time now, the armies of the underworld had struggled to enter the realm. Having to sacrifice vast numbers of lesser demons to even gather enough life-force to throw the tiniest of portals for only a few minutes. Sparda had come to refuse to watch the sacrifices. It disgusted him beyond all measure, watching that slaughter of his own kind for barely any kind of reward. The thick blood that had overflown down the altars. The squeals and pained yelps echoing even now in the back of his mind. They were still _sentient beings_ -

Sparda suddenly caught himself. Horrified at his line of thought. _They don’t matter to us, they are dispensable._ He told himself over and over again in his head. Berating himself for even thinking so foolishly, especially in the presence of the Lord Mundus. Even as a Nestling, he was taught that lesser demons were simply pawns to be used. To think otherwise was to be stupider than a child. 

_At least that slaught- those sacrifices will no longer be needed if this deal is to be fulfilled._ Sparda reassured himself, watching as the last of the generals hurriedly rushed through the door. Idly rubbing the back of his horns.

The low rumble of chatter continued for a while, until a booming voice shouted; “SILENCE!"

Sparda quickly turned to face his master. The Demon King was always an imposing figure, even before eating that blood filled fruit. He was far more humanoid than most devils, the bug-like Sparda included. Having taken on a more angelic, godlike form upon his accession to the throne. Unnaturally massive in size, with a thick beard and hair running down his regal face. He had wiped all but a few memories of what he had looked like before. Yet, despite these dramatic changes in appearance, Sparda still recognised the elder devil’s three intense eyes. Always a constant in his being, inescapable no matter the form.

“Good.” The dark lord laughed deeply when the room had fallen into silence. “I am pleased to inform you all that I have recently made an alliance…”

 _So Modeus was right. Clever boy!_ Sly smile snuck onto Sparda’s face, as Mundus' voice hummed in the background like static. The devil not paying the blindest bit of attention to the familiar information. _I should see him getting a treat next time we meet. Perhaps he would like a new blade? No that wouldn’t do. Maybe some red orbs-_

“They require an area where the veil between our two words is at its thinnest. As such, I declare that we are to assist the Cultists in seizing the City of Capulet from the wretched vermin who call it home.” 

_An attack on a city!?_ Sparda tried to hide his gasp of surprise, under an awkward cough. Panically raising a hand to his mouth. Unfortunately, it only brought the Prince of Darkness’ fearsome gaze directly on to him, and him alone. 

“Sparda, is there something I should know?” The devil hissed angrily. The brow of his stoic face twitching in annoyance at his subordinates actions.

“No my Lord!” Sparda quickly replied. “I just hadn’t expected that we would devote so many resources into helping those _delusional_ -“ Sparda bit down on his tongue hard. He shouldn’t say that! "I mean _loyal_ cultists!"

The Demon King held up his enormous hand. “Oh no, they are _delusional_ my dear general. You are utterly correct about that!” Mundus chuckled. Sparda breathed a deep sigh of relief. “However, it is their blind faith in our false godhood that we are to exploit in this instance."

“A...fine plan my lord.” Sparda agreed awkwardly, a little hesitant to fully commit to the idea. To attack a whole city on the word of some lunatics still made the devil feel…uneasy? 

It was unlikely these cultists would do any of the dirty work - just cowards who hid behind empty promises. There was nothing honourable about that. No amount of rationalisation in his mind could subdue the sour disdain rising up his throat.

The dark knight detested the killing civilians. It was always an unfair fight. He, a trained swordsman and an incredibly powerful devil. And _them_ , helpless women and children who could barely lift a woodcutter's axe. He only managed to make it through the slaughter of Redgrave because he truly believed that Mundus could change the underworld for the better. That it was the right thing to do.

_(How much of an ignorant fool had he been. Nothing changed. All he had done was put another cruel tyrant on the throne.)_

Yet, despite his inner turmoil, Sparda still bowed his head in subservience to the god-like figure. Making sure to flatter him as much as possible. As was his place as a subordinate. 

Thankfully, the demon king seemed pleased with his response, giving him a slight nod of approval. “Mmm, yes.” He said simply, before turning his attention back to the court. 

To Sparda, somebody may as well have lifted 50 greatswords off his shoulders with how relieved he was to lose that merciless glare. He didn’t particularly fancy being forcibly dipped into the murky depths of the river Styx as part of his "morning routine”. The water was always far too scolding for Sparda’s liking. 

All of a sudden, the sound of heavy footsteps, frantically beating against the marble floor of the corridor outside, grazed the edges of Sparda’s supernatural hearing. He and several other of his brood kin turned their hands towards the doorway. Low and behold, a lone succubus soon appeared. 

She looked relatively young compared to most. Likely to be only a few centuries past her nestling days. Glossy, green hair cascading down her body, barely covering the modesty of her breasts. Vines flowering with lilies, grew up her long, delicate legs, up her slender shoulders and down her thin arms - slowly entangled, and sinking into her pale skin. Her jet-black horns bending around her head like a tiara, framing her youthful face. One which at this very moment, was a mess with exhaustion. 

The succubus rested her hands against her knees, and panted heavily. She didn’t even seem aware that she was within the entire court's gaze, until she awkwardly looked up. Suddenly turning deathly still under the Dark Lord’s judging glare. 

“CHILD WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE! THIS MEETING IS ONLY FOR THOSE I SUMMONED TO BE IN MY PRESENCE!” Mundus screamed, banging his hand down onto his marble throne. The Succubus trembled in fear.

“U-uh s-sorry my most gracious lord! But Griffon told me to inform you that we have been unable to get anything out of the Captain!” She yelped shakily, her voice tender with youth. She all but collapsed to the floor in a bow, forehead firmly pressed against the cold ground.

Sparda watched Mundus with nervous dread, as the elder devil tensed up in boiling fury. His muscles budged with thick blue veins that pulsed vigorously under his porcelain skin. He looked as though he were about to explode - something that Sparda knew from experience never ended particularly...well. The dark knight braced himself for the worst. His claw-like hands tightening into fists behind his back, as the feeling of unspeakable pity grew for the trembling succubus. _It’s not the girl’s fault. She is just the messenger!_ An indignant part of him cried. Every passing minute of deathly silence adding to the unbearable tension. 

But when the Dark Lord eventually opened his mouth to speak. His voice was uncomfortably calm. “Unfortunate.” He said simply. Before silently rising from his throne. His bottomless shadow engulfed the succubus at the other end of the grand hall. 

“Have him sent here. Perhaps...I can get something out of him.” He ordered. At once the succubus looked up and nodded so violently, it was amazing her head didn’t fly off her neck. Before rushing off down the hall. 

It was only a matter of minutes until a limp man, barely clothed in the scraps of leather armour, was dragged into the throne room. His arms pinned to his sides by two Angelos carrying his full body weight. His dirty, dishevelled blond hair obscured his gaunt features in shadow. Yet Sparda could clearly see how tightly his jaw clenched in anger. Although that was not difficult to spot, given that the man’s jawbone was clearly visible under his almost translucent skin.

The pair of knights threw him to the ground like a rag doll. The man let out a groan of pain as he shakily looked up at Mundus. 

“Captain, I think we both know what I want.” Mundus chastised coldly. Slowly encroaching on the poor creature. “All you have to do is give up the information, and I’ll see that your…people are treated _less_ harshly for their _mere_ existence.

“Like hell I’d tell you about Capulet’s defences!” The man spat. His whole body shaking fiercely with anger, hazelnut eyes glaring defiantly at the colossal figure before him. “Whatever I say, thousands of people will die regardless! _My people_! I may as well limit those casualties- Ah!”

The man crumpled to the floor, as though he was being pressed down on by an invisible force. Sparda noticed Mundus closed fist crushing the poor man’s soul. Not even laying a single finger on the poor bastard he watched squirm.

“Silence worm!” The dark lord sneered. “I won’t listen to this Drabble! You will tell me about your defences, or I’ll make sure every man, woman and child knows your name as a **_traitor_ ** to your kind.”

“Y-you..wouldn’t dare..” The Captain wheezed breathless. 

“You think less of me child? Let it be known that you will simply be remembered as a coward who wept and sobbed like a _pathetic_ grieving widow, when out of fear, you revealed what would have kept them alive for a few measly decades longer.”

 _He’s going to do that? Slander a general who is simply trying to protect his people_. Sparda knew Mundus was certainly one to use tricks and manipulations of the truth to get what he wanted. But to tarnish that man’s legacy, as someone who had survived the worst torture the underworld could throw at him, seemed wrong to the devil. That was something admirable he had done, and he should at least be remembered for such endurance. It was the honourable thing to do!

But, it went beyond that for the devil. Even if the Dark Knight had doubts about his Mundus’ leadership. As a loyal general, Sparda would gladly endure any kind of torture if it meant the long term protection of his kin, much like this **_human_** Captain. 

_Would Mundus treat my sacrifice the same?_

It was a momentary blip across his mind. But the simple thought of what Sparda knew to be the answer, horrified him. _He wouldn’t would he? He’d just move onto the next fool willing to believe in his lies…._

Sparda looked down at his hands; his crimson eyes wide in shock. Hearing nothing of the man’s pained cries as the world around him turned to static. _Mundus does not care for what I have done for him. The people I have slaughtered in his name! I’m...just another pawn to be disposed of when needed. Just like those lesser demons._

Lost in his earth shattering realisation, the dark knight completely missed that the captain’s torture had ceased. Mundus turned away and sat heavily back down on his marble throne. He let out an infuriated huff of frustration, palming his godlike hand over his eyes as he shook his head in dismay. 

“So you choose a legacy of ruin….A foolish choice.” Mundus sighed gruffly. Before gesturing towards the door. “Very well. Take him back to his cage. I’ll have no further use of him for now.”

The two Angelos nodded in tandem at their king’s request, as they moved to scoop the barely conscious man’s arms over their shoulders. Lifting him from the floor and beginning to drag his limp body away. Yet, there was something about how the Captain’s head lopped a little too lowly, or how his thighs and abdominal muscles tensed as the man was dragged past the Sparda, that hinted something was off about how the human. Something that even the prince of Darkness had seemingly failed to notice. 

Just as they reached the midway point down the long hall, all of a sudden the Captain quickly swung one of his muscular legs into the right Angelo’s stomach. Knocking the demonic knight off balance. It toppled to the floor with a loud crash; sending its ebony longsword flying. The other Angelo quickly drew its sword and swiped for the Captain’s neck. But the man dropped rolled to the ground barely in the nick of time. Quickly grabbing ahold of the dropped longsword and parrying the next slash. 

Sparda watched in amazement at how the human fought. Sure, his style wasn’t particularly elegant. But under the conditions of being recently tortured and not having much to work with. The resourcefulness in how he kicked in the fallen Angelo’s neck with his barefoot to break it, all whilst he managed to parry the other knight’s attacks in the meantime was incredible. Had it not been for their biological differences, Sparda would have considered taking him as an apprentice on the spot.

Soon enough the other Angelo had fallen, and the hordes of generals surrounding the human began to growl with bloodlust. Reaching for their weapons; preparing to strike him down. But the Captain had seemingly sensed this. Not hesitating for a single moment, as he charged at the Prince of Darkness. His sword held high as he let out a deep, guttural roar-

He collapsed to the floor with a click of Mundus fingers. Neck snapped. 

Sparda couldn’t believe what he had just seen. His King, executing someone in such a dishonourable fashion! Whilst his kind had no concrete laws in place to follow. There were still universally expected and unspoken ones about conduct of battle and honour. No matter how savage the devil, it was taboo to break such laws. _And yet the Prince of Darkness himself, seems to see himself as above them in this instant!_ Sparda raged internally. 

His despair at the unfairness of it all, his growing doubts about the ethics working the cultists to slaughter the innocent, and his place in Mundus’ eyes as a loyal knight, rapidly began to crumble away the last loyalties he felt towards his King. The devil was certainly no arbiter of morality, he himself had committed many atrocities in his time. But he couldn’t help but feel like something needed to be said- be done to put Mundus’ unchecked power in its place!

Amidst the roaring laughter of the court, at what they assumed to be a humorous death. The Dark Knight started up at the towering figure before him. His crimson eyes full of disdain and betrayal for his Lord. It felt as though something had changed- snapped inside of him. As though he gained a new understanding of the laws of the world around him. One which against all logical reason, made him march out before his dark lord and stand beside the corpse of the deceased Captain. 

“Don’t you realise what you have done Mundus?!” Sparda yelled furiously. Pointing an accusatory finger towards the King. The room’s maddening laughter cut off immediately. “This human fought honourably, and when he attempted to challenge you to a fair fight you killed him before he could engage! You may be a King, Mundus! But it does not mean you are exempt from the unspoken rules of combat that we all abide by. To do so in your position may as well be...heresy!”

“Heresy!?” Mundus chuckled, a sly smile on his regal face. “Sparda, don’t you realise what you’re saying? There is no honour in fighting a human. They are insignificant and weak compared to our power. To treat them the same as a devil in combat is ridiculous! Thus I do not break any laws of honour, _child_. Because the laws themselves do not apply to humans-“

“What are you saying?!” The dark knight snapped. Turning around and gesturing at the limp corpses of the Angelos. “This human managed to defeat two Angelos, two of our own kind with nothing more that his own resourcefulness and sheer will! He is just as powerful as one of us by that logic.”

“But Angelos are made from humans, _General_ Sparda.” Cooed a thick feminine voice from the crowd **.** Many heads turned towards the demoness as she emerged from the crowd. Sparda instantly recognised the women as being a member of his tribe. Sharing the same bug-like features and horns, yet more elegant as her extravagantly patterned, purple butterfly wings trailed behind her. 

“They may be fused with material of our kind and manipulated in such a way that they serve our interests. But they are still mortal at their core. Thus, he may as well have killed another human when he stuck those Angelos down.” The butterfly demoness explained, as she lent down and carefully removed the horned helm off one of the Angelos. Revealing a young man’s face that was streaked with bold veins - the tell-tale sign of corruption. 

A proud smile formed on Mundus’ face. “A wise point Madame Butterfl-“

“Sister, do you really have any morals?” Sparda barked. Gritting his teeth.

“I am simply stating the truth _dear_ brother~” She hushed dotingly. Before waltzing her way across the room to the dark knight. Her dagger-like heels clicking against the marble floor until she reached him. Gently resting one hand on his shoulder and the other against his cheek. A seductive yet, familial look of concern glinting in her blood red eyes. “Though why you are so distressed by this worries me! No human you've seen cut down has ever bothered you so much before!” 

The devil ripped her soft hand off his cheek and exclaimed; “Because no-one seems to see that **_we_** are no different to _them_ -“ 

Sparda slammed his mouth shut at realisation of what he had just said. He rapidly spun around the room and saw nothing but shock or intense anger on the faces of his fellow devils. If he had any sense of modesty, he would have left the room and taken the shame of this incident on his shoulders for the next few centuries. 

But he couldn’t hold back now. The devil was always a stubborn one, and he may as well speak his mind while he had this opportunity;

“Imagine if someone came to slaughter our nestlings as they slept. How we would feel seeing them laying dead on the floor while our **_glorious_** King could do nothing to protect us! This is what this human was willing to sacrifice his legacy for. To prevent that! The offensive on Capulet will be a slaughter of thousands upon thousands of innocents! What for? The simple word that another group of fellow humans may or may not carry out our bidding!”

Sparda buckled over in pitiful laughter at the realisation of something. “The irony! We are simply working for them! Getting rid of their enemies, not ours! Following the orders of these so-called **_weak_ ** humans! They have tricked us, and you’ve all been too blind to see that?! Oh my!” The devil cried breathlessly, clawing at his chest to calm himself. "Even the Prince of Darkness himself-"

“Sparda, cease this treacherous rabble immediately!” Mundus snapped. Slamming his hand down onto his throne the room began to shake. “It seems you are no longer fit to serve your position as my general. Perhaps you should take some time away until you are more stable to serve under my command!”

“For once you're right about something Mundus!” Sparda yelled in agreement. Spinning on the spot, with an elegant flourish of his cape, turning away from his King. Before striding past the butterfly demoness and down the hall, until he reached the door at the other end. "I am withdrawing my forces from this offensive, and all future ones under your command.”

The devil lifted his hand over his horns and waved to the Demon king. "I hope to see you in the lowest reaches of hell one day, you bastard!"

* * *

“You said that to the King of Hell?!” Eva cried in amazement, almost spilling the contents of her teacup with her sudden movements.. “You must have some balls of steel my dear!"

“That’s...very flattering of you Eva.” Sparda mumbled awkwardly. His cheeks blushing bright red. "But I don’t see what this has to do with my-“

“Oh no no no! I didn’t mean that!” The blond woman yelped, raising her hands in surrender. Her cheeks now almost as warm as her partner’s. The very same partner who had a stupid grin growing on his face at her adorable reaction. A pale eyebrow raised in amusement. 

“You cheeky devil!” She chuckled, playfully slapping his hand.

Yet only a few moments after that playful exchange, Sparda’s rakishly handsome grin had quickly divulged into a pained grimace. It seemed as though his line of thought had returned to the topic at hand, and instantly Eva could see the effect it had on him again. The way it aged him far beyond what she could ever think of him as being. 

While Sparda appeared before her now as a man in his mid-twenties. It was hard to believe that he was over 2000 years old. Of course, Eva had recognised something was off when they first met. When she had gazed lovingly into his deep blue eyes, something about them seemed far too ancient, too glinted and sacred with horrors and regrets, for someone truly his biological age. But it wasn’t until he had told her the truth about his nature, that it finally clicked. Now, all she could ever think about when she looked into them, was the need to bundle him up and comfort him like a child in sympathy. 

Eva was about to speak. Tell him that he could take a breather and they could discuss this another time if he so wished - so long as it would wipe away that miserable look from his face, that the young woman couldn’t bear to see. But he stopped her in her tracks, as he opened his mouth and continued his story regardless;

“I didn’t return to his court after that. In fact, I didn’t return to the underworld at all. I..couldn’t stand being around other devils, having to hear of the slaughter that ended up taking place in Capulet. Especially when they were eating some of the poor victims as their dinner. As the legend says, I ‘Woke up to Justice’. But...it couldn’t have been more of a curse for me.”

“Sprada-“ 

“After catching word from a group of humans, that those cultists were constructing a shrine called the Temen-ni-gru. I couldn’t stand by and let Mundus have his way with the human world. So I sent word to those who were still loyal to me, to come and help decimate that shrine before it could be activated."

“From there, I can say the legend is fairly accurate as to what happened next. I fought off the forces of the underworld and challenged Mundus to a trial by combat. All but barely managing to win in the end. The two worlds were separated from each other, and I lost much of my power.” He sighed deeply, turning his head away from Eva. Gazing out of the window with a melancholic expression. “Is that a suitable explanation m’lady?”

He got no response. Only the squeak of a chair being relieved of its tension, and the muffle sound of footsteps echoing across the carpeted floor. 

All of a sudden he felt slim arms encircle around his head, gently embracing him. He let out a surprised gasp. Quickly gazing up to see who was holding him, only to find his vision blurred by cascading, silky blond hair. 

“You were very brave to do that.” Eva whispered softly into his ear. Tenderly pulling his head against her soft chest, and carding her fingers through his snowy locks. “I think almost every human being alive today, would thank you for that sacrifice.”

Sparda closed his eyes and buried his head in her chest. “I don’t doubt that. But sometimes I wish I never did it. While I may not stand for the same ideals as many of my kin. It’s still my home. I…miss it dearly. Even now, I feel as though I don’t truly belong to either world.” He murmured in a muffled voice. 

“Oh Sparda dear.” She hushed softly. Gazing down at him and stroking his exposed cheek. “You don’t have to feel like that anymore. I'll be your home for now on. I promise I’ll never leave your side.

 _Home?_ It seemed like such a foreign concept to him now. Thousands of years of wandering alone must do that to a person. Be it Fortuna, Vie de Marli, or Redgrave in the present - nowhere ever seemed to fill the gaping hole left in his heart, after his exile from the underworld. Yet now, in this human women’s embrace…he could finally feel it. A safety and warmth that he had not felt since he was a nestling. A giddy smile snuck onto his face at the idea. _Who would have thought? A human woman making me feel like this!_

The devil let out a hum of approval in response, to lost in his lethargic daze to be bothered with words. Only to hear the young woman's heartbeat suddenly increase beneath her ribcage. Sparda was confused- no worried at the sudden biological change. Having no clue as to what it was signalling. He knew that the human heart beat faster when a person was frightened or running from an enemy. But, he couldn't understand how that applied to the situation at hand-

“Don’t come to question all that you’ve known. Remember: you are not alone. I will be here, standing beside you~” Came the soft voice from above.

 _She’s singing?_ Sparda was utterly perplexed by Eva’s actions. Yet, there was something absolutely hypnotic about it. The lyrics of the lullaby-like song resonating far too close to home, whilst at the same time, acting as a strange comfort to him. A verbal reassurance, casting aside his inmost fears. He sighed deeply, nuzzling closer to her all-consuming warmth. Never wanting to leave this paradise she had instilled around him.

"There is no mountain, too tall to overcome. We will be as one. You will rise again,

This is your legacy…

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! >O.O<
> 
> Tumblr: https://louadorable126.tumblr.com (Support is very much appreciated over there!)


	6. Comfort/Family - (Lady, Vergil, Dante, Arkham)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> So this is kind of my love letter to DMC3. I love these three idiots more than I can describe in this author’s note, and so writing them has been an utter pleasure! Hell, even characters like Arkham/Jester are a wild ride of their own!
> 
> This is kind of an AU of the events leading up to DMC3. Mostly based around ideas from the DMC3 manga - such as Kalina Ann's fate, and Vergil living in Arkham's manor and how he would react to Arkham killing his wife. But contains some pretty angsty family drama, when Dante is brought into the picture, and the brothers emotional constipation gets the better of them. (May have gone slightly overboard with that….Whoops?)
> 
> Anyway, I shall leave you to read! :D

_"RUN MARY! GET AWAY FROM HERE!"_

Her mother’s final cry reverberated in her ears, as the young women frantically climbed the steep, winding staircase. Long legs feeling as though they had turned to jelly. On the precipice of collapsing out from under her, under the sheer weight of their tremors. Her dainty, pale hands were held up to her nose. Being stained red by the thick blood seeping out of the deep cut that marred it. 

Mary was too afraid to look back. All she could hear was her father chanting in some unnatural, twisted tongue. The ground was vibrating violently. Causing dust to fall from the ceiling on the stairwell. Blinding her in a cloud of dark fog. Sharp particles filling her raw lungs. She could hardly breath-

_“Now dear, be quiet. It will all be over soon.” Her father soothed, opening up an old, worn closet of tools and scriptures. Her mother, Kalina, manically tried to free herself from the wooden pole she was strapped to. Thin arms trying to wiggle out of their constraints. Desperately crying out for help._

~~_It was what had woken her up. She should have been quicker._ ~~

A light appeared from the top of the stairwell. The surface. Oh she was so close now! Only a couple more steps until she reached the hatch.

“Mary~ Where are you?” Cooed a voice filled to the brim with uncomfortable mirth. Unrecognisable. It felt like breath on the back of her neck, sending a cold shiver down her spine. Knocking off the rhythm of her frantic steps. She tripped up, and fell with a yelp. Her bare foot banging into the hard stone. The muscle in her ankle twisting painfully. 

“No! Please not now!” She whimpered to herself. Feeling a sinister presence ascending the stairwell behind her. It’s silhouette came into view on the walls around her. The shadow distorted in such a way that the indistinguishable form seemed massive. 

A mixture of fear and resilience kicked her body back into gear, as Mary began frantically crawling up the last few steps. Not even feeling the tender pain in her ankle, until she was topside. When the dark-haired woman had slammed the hatch shut. Pressing all her weight against it to keep it closed, as whatever dark creature her father had spawned ( ~~_Or became_ ~~ _)_ smashed and beat on the ancient oak door. Finding it hard to keep the hatch steady enough to lock it, without her sweaty hands slipping away from the bronze mechanism. 

Even when she finally felt the relief from the satisfying click of the lock. The intensity of the ferocious beating grew more intense. As if the creature had realised what she had done. The rusted bronze lock straining under the pressure. Looking as though it was about to break at any moment. 

“Shit! That’s not going to hold!” Mary cried, her voice breathy and raw. The mad dash having sapped the moisture from her windpipe. Only leaving an irritating dryness behind. That was almost as torturous instinctually heaves for air, that racket through her body uncontrollably. 

The young women stumbled over to a nearby desk. Somehow through her desperation, she managed to muster just enough energy to push a heavy leather desk chair ( ~~_Her father’s chair_ ~~ ~~)~~ across the room. Its well-polished mahogany struts screeched against the slate floor in defiance against its master's wishes, until it was over the hatch. 

Mary stumbled backwards, staring at the makeshift barricade. _That should hold him for a while._ Her hands fell to her knees as she curled over, huffing and puffing in an attempt to calm her racing heart. Only for adrenaline to jump back into her system, when a purple glow began to imitate from the cracks in the wood. The heavy chair started to thump up and down as manically as the creature clawed at the hatch. A crazed, un-hinged laughter filling the room.

“Come on Mary! Open the damn door~ Daddy only wants to give you a little spanking!” It streaked in a sing-song voice. Mary couldn’t stand it. Letting out an indignant scream of frustration and terror in repose. Rushing out of the room and into the manor’s extravagant, Victorian entrance hall. 

She hobbled over to a nearby ornate dresser. Stacked high with maliciously organised letters. Mary leaned her body-weight against it. Her ankle was searing with pain as it began to swell up. An involuntary wince of pain crumpling the delicate features of her face. 

Throwing open one of the many drawers. She tossed aside the drawer's false backing. Reaching in to grab an unloaded gun, and 3 magazines of bullets. Having kept a weapon stored there just in case one of her father’s deranged associates ever tried anything against her or her mother. 

But in the end, her focus on her father's acquaintances had hidden the true monster from her view: Her own father. After she had stayed so vigilant in order to protect her family, the real threat had come from within. She…she should have noticed sooner. Ever since that new associate of his had moved in, a ghostly figure she had never laid eyes on, her father had grown increasingly more obsessed with his work. Rarely ever leaving his study-

A low growl pierced her chain of thought. There was something here. Mary’s breath hitched, when she noticed its faint figure out of the corner of her eye.

 _I need to stay calm._ She reassured herself. Carefully, loading the pistol with ammunition. Using her bloodstained hands to muffle the slight click that came with taking it off the safety. Standing idle and motionless. Letting out a faked sigh, in an attempt to act as though she hadn’t noticed it. _Just pretend it’s just a creep from school. Not some kind of monster that you have no chance at winning against. Oh god!_

Spinning around, she quickly fired at the creature before her. A scythe wilding, deformed husk swaddled in black cloth. It’s beady crimson eyes, a clear tell-tale sign that it was a demon, a lesser demon, ( _ ~~and not whatever her father had become)~~._ It waddled backwards in pain, as a firestorm of bullets rammed through its body. Unable to even lift its scythe in the slightest against her, before Mary had despatched it. Falling to the floor before dissolving in a black ooze that dispersed across the floor, only stopping shy of her bare feet.

Mary would have called that a small victory. In fact for the briefest of moments she had. However, those merciful thoughts were put to a bitter end. When more demons started to appear in the lobby, evaporating out red-fleshy portals from the floor. Many sniffed around the place, as if they were trying to make sense of some weird smell in the air Before their attention turned on her. 

The dark-haired woman looked down at her supplies. That first demon had cost her a single magazine. But…there had to be more than 20 surrounding her. All of different types too.

 _I don’t have enough ammo,_ Mary realised in abject horror. Backing away from the encroaching demonic horde. _I can’t get past them. They're blocking the only path to the front door. There’s no way out..._

Even if she by some miracle was able to defeat them all. It was only a matter of time before her father broke through that barricade, and then-

~~_She was going to die here alongside her mother._ ~~

* * *

A raw, guttural scream pierced the soft fabric of his unconscious. 

The white-haired man startled awake, heart racing. His vision clouded in claustrophobic darkness, before whatever was covering his face (It felt so dry, and smelt like an old oak tree. Paper?) slipped away. Revealing a bedroom, gilded in pale moonlight from a nearby window. Nearly blasting the whole area in a spray of spectral swords, at the sound of a heavy thud from beside him. His sharp, ice blue eyes snapping to its attention, as he stood up abruptly. On pure instinct reaching for his beloved blade, Yamato. Only for foot to catch on something. A thick, leather backed old tome he had just been reading what felt like moments ago. 

_I must have fallen asleep while reading again. Foolishness!_ He berated himself. Picking the book up from the floor and placing it on the blue velvet chair behind him. Hastily running a hand through his thick hair upon realising the sorry state, his sinful indulgence in one of humanity's greatest moments of vulnerability, had left it in. _God knows what Arkham could have done to me while I was like that. The man is as insane as he is committed to obtaining father’s power._

He sighed. There was no point worrying in what had already past. There were bigger issues to investigate right now. Such as where that scream had come from. It sounded far too familiar for his liking, although he couldn’t place how he recognised it. It seemed unlikely it was from one of Arkham’s little _‘experiments’._ No, he normally carried them out far from here, away from his family. Not wanting them to know what his sick passions were. Even Vergil wished he could un-see some of the things he had witnessed.

 _It’s all a means to an end._ He reminded himself firmly, as he grabbed Yamato from a nearby wall. _You_ _won’t have to do this anymore when you have father’s power._

With an elegant flourish, Vergil pulled his coat off the back of the chair. Flinging it onto himself as he fled the room. The sharp crack of multiple gunshots leaking through the endless corridors the blue devil hurled himself down. Highlighted to him that whoever was firing that blasted weapon either lacked experience in fire arms (something that wouldn’t surprise him about Arkham), or knew exactly what they were doing, but were incredibly alarmed by something much stronger than them. A demon perhaps? 

Coming out onto an extravagant landing overlooking the manor’s entrance. Vergil caught sight of a young brunette, in red and green tartan pyjamas, backed up against the wall on the opposite side of the entrance hall. Frantically firing her gun at the swan of lesser demons that were slowly encroaching upon her person. Wasting shots that could easily have dispatched her enemy had she been more effective with her aim. 

But maybe he was being too harsh on the girl. Her lack of knowledge of demonic anatomy was obvious. Aiming for the thicker hides of their chests rather than their more fleshy, and vulnerable heads. However, her aim was perfect in every other respect. Never missing a target as she fired blindly into the crowd. 

Her futile attempts to fight this pack of demons, not fleeing or accepting her fate, despite all the odds being stacked against her. Was enough to stir equal amounts of pity and admiration within the young man. Any human that even attempted or succeeded in such a feat was a worthy being in his eyes. 

He leaned onto the marble barrier, resting his head in his palm. Looking down at the frantic scene unfolding below. A frown started to creep over his face, as his musings about the girl were quickly being replaced by an alarming concern. 

_Why are these demons here? I thought I had suppressed my scent._ He watched as the young girl desperately reloaded what looked as though to be her final round. Letting out a panicked cry in pure, unbridled horror at the realisation. _They're not after me. Those demons are far too weak for anything, a component Lord of the Underworld to send…Another demonic presence must have brought them here._

The deafening fire-cracks of the girl’s pistol came to an abrupt stop. Vergil couldn’t help but cringe at the sight. The foolish girl kept absentmindedly pulling the weapon's trigger at an encroaching husk. Only to find that soft the, audible clicking of the guns mechanisms, was the only thing to leave the weapon. She had run out of ammunition. 

A sudden swipe of the husk's scythe, caused the young women to flinch and fall to the ground. Its sharp curved blade barely missed her hairline. She pushed herself back, legs kicking the ground as though she were an overgrown spider. Until her back hit the crumbling plaster of the wall behind her. The husk's looming shadow leaned over her body, cutting off the last slither of moonlight passing through the reception’s windows. The girl’s heterochromatic eyes grew wide in terror, as the demon began to raise its scythe. It's cold steel shining in the moonlight-

A sudden blue glow flashed in the mirror like metal. In the blink of an eye, thousands of sharp cuts appeared stagnant in the air. Before every demon collapsed to the floor in grotesque chunks. 

Mary choked on her own breath at the suddenness of it all. Watching as black ooze began to pool out across the floor in the eerie silence that followed. Not noticing the white-haired figure standing before her. His back turned as he carefully sheathed his blade with a satisfying click. Snapping Mary back from her trance. 

“Thanks for that. Thought I would be a goner for sure-” 

“You have terrible aim.” The man stated bluntly in a nasally voice. His elegant blue coat swaying like a crescent moon, as he spun around to face her. 

_Rude!_ Mary cried in indignation. Her hands tightening into fists at her sides in defiance, as the stranger approached her. His high leather boots wading through the black ooze making noticeable squelches, that made her cringe in discomfort. 

“What was I supposed to do against them then? Just stand there and die?!” She snapped. Glaring holes into the stranger’s handsome face.

Suddenly it clicked for Vergil. He recognised this voice...The one he had heard many a time echoing down the silent corridors of the manor. _Mary…that was her name wasn’t it? Arkham’s daughter._

His associate had spoken of her rarely. But whenever he did there was always a mixed detachment from her. As though he didn’t care about her, but wished to be recognised as a father in his daughter’s eyes. _A strange paradox_ , Vergil had always observed. But a double standard that seemed to fit the equally twisted man. 

What didn’t fit however, was this girl’s appearance. The more he examined her, the harder it was for him to believe that this _girl_ was Arkham’s offspring. If Vergil had to be blunt, Arkham was a grotesque looking man. Gaunt features, beady eyes, deeply entrenched wrinkles that looked dug into his greasy forehead. His wife must have not cared for any of this. Because here their daughter lay in the flesh and blood, before his very eyes Most definitely taking after her mother, if the brief glimpses he had caught of her when she brought him tea, were anything to go by.

Yet there were certain things off about the girl. A deep cut that had recently clotted, marred her nose. As though she had been slashed across the face by something sharp. Her mop of brown hair was a mess too. Dishevelled far beyond that of bed hair. But her eyes were what drew his attention the most. They were empty and devoid of life, as though they had witnessed something truly horrific. It made Vergil feel disgusted.

~~_He had seen that very look in his own eyes, whenever he gazed into the mirror. A gentle soul broken and smashed beyond repair. Never to be cleansed of what it had seen that night. His mother-_ ~~

He grit his teeth. Shaking his head ever so subtly, as he pushed aside those unwanted thoughts. _Something must have happened to her._

“No, that would have been cowardly.” He professed in a soft voice. Pushing back an irritating snowy lock that had fallen onto his forehead.“Where is your father?"

The girl froze up completely. Her slouched posture snapping rigid, as a sharp, half-breath to escape from her mouth. It was hard for Mary to think. All the emotion and raw grief she had been repressing, surged forth in that moment. He had only posed her a simple question. But she couldn’t bear to answer. The horrific events that had transpired only minutes ago, replayed in her head over and over like some sick record. Each new repetition emphasising every gruelling moment, every detail. Where was her father? In the basement, aiming a knife towards her mother’s chest-

“H-he…oh god he-“ Her lips trembled, unable to get the words out. Tensing up and curling even further into herself. “He- he killed-“

 _Killed?_ Vergil raised an eyebrow at this. Curiosity peaking within him, at what on earth his associate could have been getting up to during his slumber. “Who did your father kill Mary?”

“MY MOTHER!” Mary exploded. Unwanted tears rolling absentmindedly down her blank face. Tilted up ever so slightly to look at him. Her cheek muscles twitching, close to crumple away in despair, but remaining stubbornly fixed. Her tone empty, “He used her for some sort of sacrifice. S-she was tied up to a pole in the basement. There was this weird pentagram on the floor- oh god there was so much blood!” 

**_"Mummy! Mummy please wake up!" Cried the young boy. His hands slick with fresh crimson blood, as he rolled the women’s torso from side to side. Becoming increasingly more violent with her body the longer she remained silent to him._ **

~~**_The forgotten son_ ** ~~

_He traded her life-force for demonic power._ The realisation shattered any trust he had in that man. _I thought we agreed that if he ever did that, he would use some worthless being as the vessel. Not his damned wife!_

How he had grieved for his own mother. Murdered cruelly by the hands of Mundus’ demons. How he had cursed the Prince of Darkness’ very existence. Wanting to obtain power to protect himself and others from that fate ever again. Yet here he was, assisting a man in the very same act. The slaughter of an innocent woman. Taking a mother away from this girl. For what? He wasn’t obtaining Sprada’s power from this! That women’s death was solely for Arkham’s selfish benefit. To make himself into a _demon_ , and a weak one at that.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Vergil said solemnly. Resting an awkward hand on her slim shoulder. “It appears my _trust_ was placed wrongly"

 _“Oh devil boy~ Don’t speak like that!”_ Cried a whiney voice on the hazy edge of his supernatural senses. Causing Vergil to jump slightly. His hand flying to Yamato’s hilt, as he frantically examined the area with a critical eye. Trying to locate the demonic presence. _“I thought we were friends! You seeeeeee!”_

“Show yourself Arkham!” He growled. Despising the playful, yet violent aura he felt emanating from whatever that man had become, as it grew closer and closer within his psyche. 

_“I’m coming! I’m coming! Ever so eager to fight aren’t you Veeeergil!”_ The young man hated how the obnoxious devil spoke his name. Rolling it off its slimy tongue, and emphasising all the wrong parts. Vergil assumed it was deliberate. Arkham knew he liked things to be pronounced properly. 

“W-what’s going on?” Asked Mary shakily. Watching as the white-haired stranger prowled around the hallway, like a paranoid mad man. Posture posed ready to strike out against any threat.

 _“Is that darling Mary? Oh oh oh! Doesn’t she look sad!? You’re a naught boy Vergil for upsetting her like that!”_ The voice snapped like a parent berating a child. Nevertheless speaking with a raspy yet gleeful inflection, as though its throat hurt from laughter. 

All of a sudden, the sound of a hatch flying open and the harsh smack of wood colliding to the floor, startled the pair. Vergil swiftly snapped his attention to the study seeing the silhouette of a clown like figure peak out from the doorway. 

“Maaaaary, come give your daddy a hug~” The voice cooed, attempting to sound loving but the un-natural cheeriness just made it sound perverse to Mary’s ears. That _thing_ wasn’t her father. The fact it tried to act as such, filled her veins with a fierce anger. 

“Go away you sick bastard!” She sneered. Pulling herself up off the floor in defiance. Only to find that she was unable to stand when she rested and waited on her sprained ankle. Collapsing back onto the ground with a pained yelp. Gritting her teeth as pain started to flare within the muscle again. “You’re not my father, and never will be again. Not after what you've done!”

Vergil quickly glanced over his shoulder and watched in pity as the girl crawled towards him. Reaching her hands out and clawing the deep cracks in the floor to pull herself along. While her pathetic state would normally draw a thick taste of disgust in his mouth. All that he could think of was-

**_Pain surging up within his chest. He looked down to find a Katana plunged deep into his heart. Pinning his small, limp body against a worn gravestone. Every part of his being wailing in agony._ **

**_It hurt just to look up and gaze directly ahead. The manor was so close it almost seemed unfair that it would end like this. Burning bright orange, just beyond the ancient apple tree. It's vibrant colours a stark contrast to the settling darkness of dusk. He reached out a small_ ** **_trembling_ ** **_hand towards it. His vision faltering, falling into a obscuring haze of messy lights, before he finally submitted to total blackness-_ **

**_“Dante, Mother…”_ **

“You _RUDE_ girl!” The clown figure shrieked in an ear bleeding voice. Its shadow began to march forward, the clown-like, _no Jester-like_ silhouette growing exponentially. Until its hidden presence towered over the western wall, directly across from the study. It's a fool's cap looking like the massive elongated horns of a devil. “I suppose it's finally time to give you that well earned spanking, Mary! That ought to teach you a lesson about hurting your dear father’s feelings!"

Vergil didn’t particularly want to stick around for this _spanking_. He had enough of this man, and that girl too.

 _It wouldn’t take much to end this demons pitiful existence,_ he thought, closing his eyes in concentration. As he prepared his mind to draw on the demonic power that slumbered within him. Discarding any other thoughts that had no purpose within battle. _It’s unlikely Arkham has gained any real power from one human sacrifice. He should be no match for a son of Sparda. Just another worm to be stamped out from existence._

And all the better for it. Vergil hated clowns with a passion. No matter what form they came in, or what form he would leave it in after this. _But what if he hurt Mary-_

Since when did he start caring about this girl’s wellbeing? He let out a sharp growl of anger at his- well _soft-heartedness_ ! It irritated him greatly how her weakness had played and manipulated his stone-encase psyche. Lying there on the ground next to him, like a dainty china doll that had been tossed aside. The emotional trauma he had briefly glimpsed within her, being uncomfortable familiar to his own. Like she had held up a mirror that had cruelly reflected back every horrible moment of the night he lost everything. The same having happened to her that had happened to him. The loss of a mother ~~and the betray of a father.~~

That alone felt like a violation of his privacy. Yet at the same time, made him feel _sympathy_ of all things for her! 

_I can’t leave her here_ . A soft voice whispered in the back of his mind. _I need to take her somewhere safe. Far away from here._

All of a sudden, Mary felt two, well-built arms wrap around her. She was startled for a moment, wondering what on earth the white haired stranger was thinking, when he pulled her close to his chest broad chest and cradled her body. It was only after he had kicked open the locked front door, sending splinters of white-painted wood flying out in all directions, that she realised what he was doing. As he broke into an astonishingly fast, almost supernatural sprint down the hill and towards the city.

Mary only wished he could have outrun that god-awful laughter that screeched out from the building. 

* * *

_Man, I just wish I could live in the shower. It's freezing out here._ The young man’s body shivered violently, as he wrapped himself up in a soft towel like a blanket. Waiting a moment, until he felt acclimated to the cold air of the bathroom, before drying himself off. Shaking his head like an overgrown, excited puppy to remove the last remaining droplets of water clinging to his snowy mane. 

Once he felt suitable dry, he lobbed the towel across the room and onto a pile of its brethren in the corner. Putting on a pair of ripped, brown leather trousers to cover his modesty. Before throwing open the bathroom door. Letting the water vapor stream out from the room behind him, as he strolled towards his desk. All but throwing himself onto a worn velvet chair, and swinging his legs up onto his grand oak desk. Being careful not to accidentally bash into his mother’s portrait in the process. 

He lent back into the chair, and sighed in absolute bliss. Feeling the pure satisfaction of his once tense back muscles, having been freed of their dull ache, by the scorching water of the shower. It seemed only fair that he should be entitled to sitting on his ass after a grueling day of hauling furniture around and trying to get the place set up. In fact, Dante was quite proud of his handy work. His new shop was starting to come together, and soon enough he would be racking in the cash-

There was a knock at the door. 

_Oh come on! It's too late for me to deal with any of this shit right now!_ Dante whined internally. Running a still-damp hand across his face in frustration.

“Shops closed. Come back tomorrow!” He yelled tiredly.

“Uhhh, no can do man!” Came a rather sheepish, yet boyish voice in reply. "Got a pizza for Mr Redgrave?”

That shower must have killed some of his brain cells, because he had completely forgotten about the Margarita Pizza he had ordered from Tony’s before hopping in. Feeling his stomach rumble in annoyance at his stupidity, he quickly called back; “Yeah that’s me! Come on in and just leave it at the desk!”

A teenager, probably slightly younger than him, walked through the door. A backpack stacked high with boxes, containing the best food on earth, was slung around his shoulder. The kid quickly took the backpack off and rummaged for his order in the middle of the shop. Before fist pumping happily when he found it. He quickly carried it over to Dante, and put it down on the desk. The young man stood there in silence, his expression dropping every second that past, as he stared at the white-haired man. Only after an awkward few minutes did it occur to the young devil: _Oh crap! I’ve got to pay him._

Dante hunted around in the draws of his desk. Thankfully, finding a few bank notes that had haphazardly been thrown into one of them. He handed them to the delivery boy, and sent him on his way. 

The white-haired young man rubbed his hands together in excitement. A moment later, he was chowing down on a slice of pizza. A wholesome smile plastered across his face as he ate. But soon enough, his thoughts began to drift with nothing to stimulate his overactive mind. 

_It must have been around this time last year I saw Verge again._ Dante thought solemnly.

What should have been one of the happiest moments of his life, had been torn away from him. Reunited with a brother who had gone mad in his lust for demonic power. Willing to allow the possible deaths of thousands, when he broke that seal Sparda had placed and set hundreds of demons loose into the wild. It was like a sharp blade had been rammed violently through his heart, when he saw what a twisted monster his soft, nerdy, book-loving brother had become. How he spoke in such a cold, condescending voice. The gentle gaze he remembered his brother always gracing him with whenever he caught sight of little brother, having been replaced by one of pure wrath and unbridled hatred towards him. It made Dante wish he had just died that night. Instead of becoming that _thing_ he had bore witness to that day. 

_Like hell can he come back, and take my amulet whenever he feels like it! Vergil's got an arse whooping waiting for him if he tries!_ Dante declared determinedly in his mind. Ripping the cheese off his pizza with his fang-like teeth. 

* * *

“Where are we going?” Mary asked curiously. Starting to get concerned as to where on earth the white-haired man (She still hadn’t built up the courage to ask for his name) was taking her. 

For the past hour she had been held aloft in this man’s arms. He had stopped running a while ago. Slowing to a gentle stroll, as he wandered through the narrow back streets of Capulet. Only ever spending a brief time on the main streets, before ducking back into the shadows. While she could see why this had it’s advantages, such as being able to move quicker and to be unseen by the eager eyed public. Who would probably have some questions as to why this strange looking, yet handsome man was carrying around, and clung to an injured girl like his life depended on it. The backstreets weren’t particularly better.

Every time they passed some sort of dirty looking establishment, a shower of cat-calls would come their way. While irritating to Mary, her partner seemed practically fuming. The red-faced young man, she couldn’t tell if it was complete and utter embarrassment on his cheeks or steaming rage, almost dropped her to the ground on multiple occasions. Teetering on the edge of letting them have a taste of his blade. Something that seemed a little overkill, given that most she would have done was punched them in the face and called it at that. 

“To my brother’s dwelling.” He stated simply. Cerulean eyes boring down at her in confusion."I’ve never understood why he would want to live amongst these degenerates. You can’t walk 5 meters in this city without someone attempting to mug you."

Mary scoffed, offended by his opinion of her home city. “Well, we haven’t been mugged yet!”

“That’s because I'm taking extra care in displaying my weapon in public. Something I don’t _normally_ have to do elsewhere…”

Mary hummed in annoyance and crossed her arms in frustration. She couldn’t be asked to fight with him right now. Mary just didn’t have the raw brain power for that battle of the wits. All she wanted to do was cruel up and go to sleep. Hopefully never awaken again, or at least for all of this to just be some horrible nightmare. In all honesty, that would explain half of the weird shit she had seen tonight. _Including this guy_.

She gazed up at the young man. Watching as his pale features shifted from grumpy, to calm, too expressionless, his head remained fixed forward. 

“So, what's your brother like?” She asked curiously. Wondering if he would be anything like a stoic and cold white-haired man, whose grip on her seemed to tighten slightly at his mention. 

“I’ll let you meet him for yourself. We’re here.” He said firmly. 

Mary looked up at where they were. A large, abandoned warehouse stood before them. The old brickwork crumbled in places, leaving holes in the wall where unpleasant drafts could flow through. A “For Sale” sign still laid out the front of the building, looking as though it had been taken down recently but nobody had come to collect it. Then there were the old oak doors at the entrance of the building, bits of wood peeling away from the varnish, looking run down and worse for wear.

All of a sudden, the young man came to an abrupt stop in front of the door. He looked hesitant for some reason. His pale hand hung in the air, knuckles grazing the solid wood of the door but never going through with the knock. Mary noticed the tenseness in his jaw, and the shaky sigh he let slip. _They must not have the best of relationships. Great._

Eventually, he found it within himself to knock. Banging the door rather forcefully, gaining the attention of whoever was inside. 

“We’re not open right now! Beat it!” Yelled a boyish voice from the other side of the door. Slightly muffled, as though he had something in his mouth. 

The white-haired man seemed irritated by this response. He shook his head in dismay, before letting loose a more vigorous assault of knocks on the door. “It’s me Dante.” He said sharply, every world crisply pronounced and emphasised, as though he wanted his brother to take notice of it. "I need to speak with you.”

There was a sudden flurry of footsteps from the other side. The front door flew open, and a pure-white gun was pressed against her partner’s forehead. Mary’s breath caught in her throat. 

“Well it’s good to see you again Verge!” Dante laughed sarcastically. The playful smugness on his face in extreme juxtaposition to the glare he gave his mirror image. “What? Not afraid to take a bullet through that thick skull of yours?”

“Might I remind you brother, that a bullet to the head would do nothing to us.” Vergil sneered back. Pushing his forehead against the gun barrel. Getting fed up with his brother’s pointless threats. “How about I show you something far worse-“

“Boys can you stop fighting. You’re almost grown ass adults.” Mary’s annoyed voice chimed in. Both of the twins snapped their attention towards her dumbfounded. “Now can someone please tell me what’s going on!"

“Yeah, I would like to know too!” Dante cried. His firm grip on the white pistol loosening, as he stared down at the mysterious brunette in his brother’s arms. "Like how the hell did you get a girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?” Vergil asked in confusion. He looked down at Mary in his arms, then back up at Dante. Before his cheeks almost boiled over upon realising what his foolish brother meant. “I think you’re gravely mistaken brother. I’ve only known this woman for about an hour." 

“Suuuuure you aren’t. So why are you carrying her in your arms then Mr Prince Charming- oh.” Dante’s teasing tone fell dramatically, when he caught sight of the tell-tale signs of swelling on the girl’s ankle. 

The young-devil hunter wasn’t particularly well known for his observational skills, and that couldn’t have been proven more correct, after realizing the sorry state the girl in his brother's arms was in. _W_ _hat the hell happened to her?_ If the dried blood covering her nose and the deep cut that marred it wasn’t enough to concern him. Her simple state of dress, a pair of tartan pajamas, made him incredibly uneasy. Whatever happened to her must have happened while she was sleeping or soon after. _She must have been defenseless._

**_Through his lucid haze, the young could hear the soothing crack of wood snapping in the fireplace. The rich earth smell of smoke tickling his small nose. He always loved it when his mother put the fire on in the reading room. Like a cat he would curl up the plush red sofa, and nap early into the evening. Having worn out his energy reserves from running around the house, and finding new ways to annoy and gain his elder brother’s attention-_ **

**_The loud smash of a ceiling collapsing to the ground, echoed through the building. Startling the young boy out of his dream world and into a waking nightmare._ **

**_“Dante? Vergil? Where are you!” His mother screamed._ **

Dante’s pale hand tensed up and tightened around the door frame he loosely clung onto. Closing his eyes briefly, as the events of that night overwhelmed his mind again. He battled against them, desperately trying to push them back and erase them from his consciousness again.

“She needs somewhere safe to stay for the night Dante.” His twin-brother said softly. A serious, yet surprising vulnerable look in his sharp eyes as they gazed up at him. “You know I wouldn’t come to you unless it was absolutely dire.”

“Yeah, you have a point.” Dante sighed, lowering his gun and holstering it in his pants. Shivering slightly, as the adrenaline within him wore down. Exposing him to the full brunt of the freezing, brittle elements that had been assaulting his bare chest while his non essential senses were numbed. “So we have a truce then?”

His brother, despite the desperation in his words, seemed hesitant to agree. Dante could see the conflict on his face as clear as day. His brother’s pinkish lips moving to speak, only too stopped at the last second before his vocal cords could speak such forbidden words. His hold on the girl tightening again, as though her soft, warm body provided some sort of unconscious comfort he himself was not aware of. Vergil closed his eyes, sharp brows furrowing deeply, as he finally managing to get out through gritted teeth, “Agreed” 

“Alright then!” He cheered happily. Moving aside and letting the pair enter. “Pizza’s still warm so help yourself!"

“Pizza?” Mary asked in confusion. As the young man (Verge? It was what his brother had called him, but it seemed more like a nickname.) carried her through the doorway, and into the land of pizza boxes and empty beer bottles. 

Strolling over to a rather worn, brown leather sofa, that looked as though to be the same colour as the disheveled white haired man’s trousers. The man in blue gently lowered her onto its surprisingly comfortable, soft surface. Quickly moving to grab a rather washed out, strawberry coloured pillow from a nearby chair. Before carefully inserting it under her swollen foot. 

“Yeah! I have one or two slices spare if you want them babe?” Dante piped enthusiastically. His boyish features taking on a charming aesthetic, as he grinned wildly at the young women from across the room.

If she wasn’t so disturbed by tonight's events, she probably would have taken him up on his offer. Pizza had always been a comfort food to her. It was always cheap and easy to get a hold of whenever she wanted it. Especially in the last few months, when she would spend the whole night out away from her increasingly dysfunctional family, on odd jobs. But right now, Mary feared that if anything entered her delicate stomach. It would quickly be violently rejected and cast out in waves of vomit. 

“Uh, no thanks. Not really in the mood for it.” She responded politely. 

“Ah, what a shame!” He huffed pouting. Throwing the pale gun onto his desk, before pushing himself up onto it. He then flicked open the nearby Pizza box and delicately picked up a particularly cheesy slice. Watching with amazement as the string like cheese stretched, as though it clung desperately to its fellow slice like its life depended on it, before it snapped. “What about you Vergil?”

His brother took one look at the slice in his hand, before his face crumpled in disgust. “I don’t want that greasy filth anywhere near my mouth.” He snapped coldly. 

“Welp your loss then!” He smirked, before devouring the slice whole. 

Vergil had to stop himself from gagging at the disgusting display. Not helped by his patched throat. While he didn’t need to drink liquids to sustain himself. The excessive running he had endured on his way over here caused his human side to crave for something to clear the dryness.

 _Perhaps some tea might do the job,_ he thought to himself. Touching his throat unconsciously. 

“Dante, do you have a kettle anywhere?” He asked firmly. Letting out an awkward cough as he turned towards his brother, who was still busy munching on his pizza. 

“Kettle? What makes you think I drink tea?!” He exclaimed. Stopping to gulp down the last of his pizza. Before licking his fingers. "I have a second hand coffee machine kicking around if you want to use that.”

If Vergil wasn’t already deeply ashamed of his brother. That was certainly the last straw. He had never really liked the bitterness of coffee, even when he had tried it once or twice in the odd artisan coffee shop, during his travels. God knows what the cheap, instant coffee his brother drank would do to his refined taste buds. 

Vergil held back his tongue. Now was not the time to get antagonistic with his twin. “I’ll get some water.” He simply stated. Before strolling around the corner and into the small kitchenette. 

With his brother gone, Dante leaped at the opportunity to learn more about his brother’s “Not-Girlfriend”. Sliding off his desk, the young devil hunter rushed over to the brunette girl. Seating himself, on the sliver of sofa left free beside the girl's raised foot. The young woman was alarmed by this. Throwing herself backwards against the thick, armrest like a skittish deer. Unsure as to what the messy haired young man was about to do. 

Dante tried his best to put up a charming facade. Hoping his devilish good-looks would be enough to convince the girl to stop glaring holes through him. “Hey babe, not everyone gets my brother undying attention. I’m impressed!” He flattered her. 

Nothing.

“So, what’s your name? You look like a Tracy? Maybe a Patrisha-“

“It’s Mary,” she chimed in. Her shoulders relaxing a little at the confession. 

“Hey! Mary is a good name!” He smiled. Stretching his arm out along the hard backrest, nonchalantly. 

There was an awkward silence. 

_Crap, this isn’t going well!_ Dante cringed internally. His confidant appearance flattering ever so slightly on the surface, as his alluring smile drooped, and became increasingly disfigured by growing doubt. _Screw the small talk, might as get straight to the point._

“So how do you know my big bro?” He asked astutely. Trying his best to sound casual about the whole thing. "Last I heard he was living with some creepy-ass bald guy…"

Mary’s world seemed to distort around her, at the mention of her father. Why did she have to keep being reminded of him? All she wanted to do was purge the image of him from her mind. To not have to think about what he had done. Even without this idiot’s not so subtle reminder. She had been torturing herself for the past, as her brain was starting to process what had taken place on a more critical level, beyond just her own personal survival and raw emotion. 

The white-haired adolescent was still talking to her, that’s for sure. However, Mary couldn’t hear a word of what he was saying over the static that filled her ears and drowned out all external sound, beyond her increasingly restless heartbeat. His lips were moving, but to her he may as well have been a comic mime. It didn’t help that he had to share a damned face with the man who had saved her! A man she knew full well, had to be the mysterious associate living and working with her father. How he had just so happened to be in the manor at the time. Jumping out of the shadows from god knows where, and displaying such elegant supernatural power, that now upon further introspection, was probably the very thing her father had lusted for. Hell! He’d known her name, despite them never meeting before tonight!

Mary’s erratic eyes dashed towards the shitty kitchenette. Watching the sway of Vergil’s graceful blue coat swayed out past the cracked, red tiled counter. _Am I even safe here? He worked alongside that monster. Assisted that bastard in his work for months! Why would he suddenly have a change of heart? What if this is all an act, and he is planning to use me for something down the line!?_ Her breath quickened.Mary tried to raise her foot but found it impossible to move, due to the unyielding pain emanating from it. _There is no escape. I can’t move. I can’t go home. Mum’s dead-_

“I mean look, I know my brother obsessed with demonic shit-“ The devil hunter suddenly noticed her violently trembling. “Are you alright?” He asked in a concerned voice. Reaching out to place a gentle hand on her shoulder, before she viciously slapped it away. Letting out a panicked yelp.

At the sound, Vergil came rushing back into the room. Catching sight of the violently trembling girl, curled up in a ball next to his dumbfounded brother. Vergil came incredibly close to impaling his brother with a rain of summon swords where he sat. Only having barely enough willpower to hold the down temptation and channel it into shouting; “Dante! What did you do?!"

His twin seemed to panic upon hearing his voice. Leaping up from the sofa, he stood in a defensive position, one leg in-front of the other, hands curled tightly into fists at his sides, as he hesitantly turned his head towards his brother. 

“I don’t know! It just suddenly happened!” Dante cried. Sounding like a little boy who had just been caught by his mother.

“People don’t just end up like that you idiot!” Vergil snapped. Gesturing a hand towards the increasing distressed young women. “Tell me exactly what you said to her.”

His twin was taken aback by the question. Puffing his cheeks out in annoyance. “I was asking her about how she met you! I told her that I knew you were living with some freaky bald guy-“

“That’s her father you fool!” Vergil sneered angrily. His brother’s stupidity was beyond comprehension. "The same one who just killed her mother tonight! Dammit Dante, why can’t you ever keep your mouth shut. You should have just waited until I told you-“

“YOU DON’T TELL ME ANYTHING!” He screamed angrily. “I’ve only seen you, what twice? Since I found out you were still alive? And _every fucking time,_ you go on about needing Dad’s power!” 

Dante marched over to the desk and threw open one of the draws. Before holding up a crimson amulet. Clinging to it so tightly that the silver encasing the gem almost drew blood from his pale hand.”You only came for _this_ ! You care more about a fucking memento from mum than you do me, Vergil! You'd rather impale me on the end of your blade, and tell me how much of an _idiot_ I am for even existing-”

“It’s not like that Dante..” Vergil said in a hurt voice. “You just never seem to understand-"

“Understand?” Dante let out an agonising, strained laugh at the sentiment. "What your borderline fucking fetish for demonic power? How you will gladly allow the death of thousands, if it means you can bask in the glory of being slightly better than Dad for an hour! It never stops for you, Vergil! Apparently that now includes stooping so low as to helping some lunatic kill his own wife-"

“I had _nothin_ g to do with that, Dante!” Vergil snapped. Gritting his teeth and clenching his eyes shut in frustration, as he screamed from the bottom of his heart. “Everything I have done was in order to protect _you_ -“ 

Vergil physically choked back the words; Absolutely horrified at what he had let slip. 

“To protect...me?” Dante murmured quietly. Starting at his frozen brother in utter shock. Watching the sheer violence with which his twin’s lips trembled. 

Vergil couldn’t stand to listen to his brother’s reaction. Looking away from his brother in a mixture of shame and frustration, he noticed that they had left the poor girl crying silently to herself on the couch all this time while arguing. He needed a distraction. Letting out an embittered huff through gritted teeth, he rushed to Mary’s side. 

Hesitantly, Vergil rested a hand on her trembling back. Watching as the girl flinched upon contact, before freezing up. It was hard to see whether she was scared by the contact or just surprised, as her face was perfectly obscured behind her dark hair. Nethertheless, Vergil persisted. Running a tender hand across the small of her back, tracing all sorts of mindless patterns that he hoped would be some sort of comfort to her. He was never particularly good with these… _emotions_.

To Vergil’s surprise his brother soon approached, having changed into something decent - a crimson tank top - and returned to his nonchalant, easy going self. Completely devoid of the bottled up rage he had seen earlier. But in its place was something completely unexpected to the blue devil. There was an endearing concern held within his brother’s cerulean eyes, as he held out a bundle of worn blankets in his toned, muscular arms.

“Hey…Verge. I think she might need these.” Dante blurted out rather awkwardly. Desperately trying to look anywhere at him and Mary. 

Vergil got up from his kneeling position on the floor. Walking over to his brother and he gingerly taking the blankets from him. “Thank you Dante.” He said simply, before turning away.

Before Mary knew it, she had been wrapped up (maybe a little too tightly for her liking) in a blanket burrito. The two brothers sitting awkwardly to the either side of her, absentmindedly staring at images that flashed up on the TV in front of them. Neither really paid any attention to what was being shown. Yet, it brought a strange comfort to Mary. Their warm bodies, crushed up against either side of her acted like a barrier, a fortress of iron will, between her and the painful outside world. It helped that the pair of them paid no mind to her (Mary had come to suspect they were both equally as incompetent when it came to emotions), it made the hot tears that rolled down her face seem less embarrassing. 

However, to her left, Vergil found it increasingly hard to feel comfortable. His brother’s words kept circling in his mind, taunting him. _Do I care more for mother’s amulet, for father’s power, then I do Dante?_ He let out a strained sigh, bending over and resting his elbows on his thighs. A couple of irritating strands of white hair found this the perfect opportunity to come loose, as he reached down into his ascot and pulled out a familiar gold encased, crimson amulet.

Vergil thought back to that night. The one he had promised to himself that he would not feel so weak and powerless again. That nobody would have to go through the grief he felt. Until now, he had thought the power he had cultivated within himself, coupled with that of his father would be enough to protect others. That the cost didn’t matter because in the end, they would be thankful that he was their protector. 

But what had that achieved? When he saw his brother for the first time a year ago, he had felt nothing but anger and resentment at his brother. Vergil had come to understand after meeting Arkham, that his twin had taken what was rightfully his. That Sparda’s eldest son should have been one complete being. Yet through his identical brother’s very existence, that power had been split. Ripped away from him before he had even left the womb. The unfairness of it, that what he had been trying to achieve for so long was something he could never have, left him feeling utterly distraught and furious at Dante. _I played right into Arkham’s hands._ Vergil suddenly realised, horrified that the stoic facade he had worked tirelessly too perfect was so effortlessly penetrated. That Arkham had so easily gauged his insecurities.

Vergil looked over at Mary beside him. Her tears had seemingly stopped, but the pain deep within her heterochromatic eyes- the scarring grief was still there. They were both foolish victims that had been ensnared in Arkham’s wicked games. Vergil was just thankful that it hadn’t cost someone dear to him. But for this girl it had...

“I lost my mother once too, Mary..” Vergil admitted softly. Causing both his Dante and Mary’s heads to turn in his direction in surprise. His brother in particular had his eyebrows raised in shock. “Well, _our_ mother I mean. Her name was Eva, and she was-

“A wonderful woman and an awesome mum.” His brother chimed in. A sad smile on his face. “Not sure why you're bringing this up bro?"

Vergil ignored his brother’s question, and continued on; “I know what it feels like to… lose a loved one and wonder if there was anything you could have done to prevent it. On the day our mother was killed, I had gotten into an argument with Dante when mother came in to diffuse the situation...”

Dante looked at his brother in confusion. He could barely remember anything from that time, let alone any argument kind of argument. Yet the hints of a memory began to peak out from corners of his mind. Fractured fragments of him waving a toy sword in front of his brother’s face, trying to get his older brother’s attention away from his reading.

“She blamed me for what Dante had started. But before she could punish me. I stormed out of the house and went to a local playground.” Vergil remembered that abandoned playground fondly. It was always where he would hide away from the world, when it frustrated or upset him. His own sanctuary that neither his mother, nor brother knew about. “It was around dinner time that I saw smoke rising in the distance.”

“Smoke?” Mary asked, confused. Pulling the worn blanket closer around her shoulders. Too hesitant to put forward any further questions. _Did their mother burn to death in a fire?_

“Our house was attacked by a powerful devil's minions.” Dante explained softly. Mary turned her head to face the messy haired twin. Feeling his body tense up against her as he spoke. “They set the place alight to lure us out.”

Vergil hummed in agreement. “Yes, the wards our father placed on the house should have protected us from any demonic threat. The fire was only there to make sure any _humans_ were quickly disposed of in the flames, or ran straight out into their- trap” The young man’s breath hitched at the end, as long forgotten emotion began to overwhelm him in the memory. His pale hands flying up to his forehead and massaging his searing temples. 

Vergil felt he needed to get this out quickly. Better to rip the bandage of fast than too wallow in its long, drawn-out pain. He grit his teeth; “When I saw that the manor was on fire. I rushed back to see if mother and Dante were safe. Unfortunately, I encountered some… _difficulties_ on the trip home. By the time I got there, I found my mother's body on the ground. I couldn’t find you anywhere brother. 

"At first I assumed you had been killed, but when I couldn’t find your body. I realised mother had helped you, her favourite son to escape.“ Vergil could feel the bitter taste of poisonous jealousy stroke his tongue, as he spat. “Leaving me to die outside on my own."

“Vergil.” Dante uttered in a light voice. His sharp eyes were wide in horror, as he threw his hands up into the air and began to wave in a panic. “No, No! That’s not what happened! Mum kept screaming your name! She desperately searched for you until it killed her!"

 _She…looked for me?_ Vergil was completely taken aback. Part of him just couldn’t accept the idea of it. The narrative he had told himself so many times, something so deeply entrenched within his very being, just couldn’t be wrong! He was the worthless, forgotten son-

“No.” Vergil stated shakily. Taking a deep-breath to try and expel the raging emotions from his being. “You’re wrong Dante. How can you know that for certain, when she helped you run-“

“God dammit Vergil! She hid me in a damn closet! You know the old one in the hallway? I was there when she was crying out for you! Heard her final cry for fuck sake!” Dante yelled angrily. His whole body trembling violently, as he wrapped his toned arms across his chest, clawing at the fabric at his sides for comfort. His face crumpling up in despair under his snowy locks. Yet still he held up a shaky, uncomfortable mask of a smile. "I was too scared to leave and… I-I don’t remember anything after that.”

The young man couldn’t say anything in repose to his twin. He felt incredibly fragile, and vulnerable at that moment. _Eva did care about me. She died trying to protect me._ That simple truth, cleanly stated in his mind, was enough to shatter years of built up resentment and hatred in one swift blow. A barrage of happiness and overwhelming grief began to flood his system. He quickly threw up a hand to his mouth to prevent a peculiar, uncontrollable hiccup from escaping his lips. It felt like he was about to burst out in maddening laughter, similar to that of the insane clown Arkham had transformed into. But...that couldn’t be right?!

All of a sudden, Vergil felt soft, warm arms wrap around his bicep. Out of instinct he raised his head, only to be met by the sight of Mary hugging his arm. A pitying look on her tearstained face as she gazed up at him. “Hey, it's ok to cry if you want.” She said softly. Reaching a hand up the corner of his eye and wiping something warm and moist welling up from it. 

Vergil felt vile rejection surge through his being. He wasn’t meant to feel like this! He was a devil! Devils don’t feel emotion, and they certainly don’t cry-

A single tear rolled down his cheek, and that was all that was needed to break him. Vergil threw his hands up to his face. frantically trying to rid his eyes of shameful tears. Yet they kept escaping through his fingers, as he sobbed uncontrollably. Feeling as though he couldn’t breath under the waves of endless hiccups, drowning him in sorrow. They only got worse as his self-hatred grew, for allowing himself to show such vulnerability, such private emotions, in front of his brother and that girl. _They must think I am weak.._

All of a sudden, and tender hand cupped the back of his neck. Bring his head down to rest on their warm, soft shoulder. “Shhh it’s ok. Just let it out.” Mary’s gentle voice whispered into his ear. Carefully stroking his soft hair with one hand. Her slender fingers running deep through his orderly locks, messing them up and causing them to come undone, as she massaged his scalp in a soothing manner. 

The adolescent complied with her request, burying his burning face deep within her squishy, protective shoulder. Vergil didn’t care how stupid it must have looked. It lessened the grief slicing his heart into thousands of pieces. He would have done anything to make that stop.

From the other side of the sofa, the sound of poorly concealed sniffling could be heard. Mary turned her head to face the twin in red. She couldn’t quite see his face under his shield of messy hair. But the shudders that rumbled up through his body, and the drops of moisture falling silently from his chin and hard jawline, were enough to give away his true emotional state. 

“Oh, come here you!” Mary soothed with a sad smile. Lifting up her arm, and gesturing with her eyes, for him to come into the open space she had created for him.

The adolescent immediately obliged. All but throwing himself into her embrace, and burying his face deep into her delicate neck. Utterly silent, compared to his noisily weeping older brother, as he clung to her like a life-line. Even though they were stark contrasts to one another in how they expressed their anguish. Mary treated their collective sorrow the same. Simply stroking a tender hand through their silk-like hair, and hushing them softly until they calmed down.

* * *

It was Dante, who was the first to leave the embrace. Carefully rising from her shoulder, and pulling back a little. He gave her a tired pout, from beneath his messy hair. His whole being looking noticeably more relaxed, more at peace than before, as he got up from the sofa and strolled over to the rough kitchenette. 

But for the elder twin, Mary assumed he had fallen fast asleep, given that the young man hadn’t moved a single inch since his sobbing had ceased. Yet, eventually Vergil sheepishly raised his head from her shoulder. His face returned to its calm and collected facade, as he quickly slicked back his unkempt, fluffy white hair. His expression turning exceptionally stoic, upon meeting her gaze, as though he were trying to pretend that the last few minutes had never happened. This unfortunately had the opposite effect for Mary, as his serious expression didn’t quite match the minor blush marring his pale cheeks. Nor the glistening wet strikes running down from his exhausted, reddened eyes. The combination of the above was enough to make the young women let out a hearty laugh. 

“You don’t have to make a fool out of me, Mary.” He grumbled tiredly, glaring at her in a half-hearted manner. His voice having returned to the bold, nasally tone she recognised. _Good._

 _“_ Oh, but you're adorable like this!” She joked mid laugh, just as Dante returned with a bottle of beer in hand. “Come on he is, isn’t he Dante?

Dante waved his hand nonchalantly, as he took a sip from his bottle. “Pffff! Yeah!”

“You don’t even know what she said!” Vergil argued, in a far less composed, formal tone. As though he were a child passionately arguing his case to an oblivious sibling. Which in some respects, the nineteen year old still was. 

_“_ Sure I did.” Dante affirmed with a smirk, as he sat back down on the sofa. Throwing back another gulp of his drink. “Anyway I uh..” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Have a proposition for the both of you.”

“Huh? What is it?” Mary inquired, curiously. The worn blanket, that was still wrapped around her, fell down to her bust as she perked up in intrigue. 

“You guys don’t have anywhere to go after tonight, do you?” Dante asked in an uncertain, yet cryptically tone.

“No.” They both replied in unison. 

“Well then, why don’t you guys stay here and help me run this place?” Dante suggested. "Going to need a lot more hands on deck when I finally open-“

“Dante, what kind of shop are you opening?” Vergil asked sternly. While he had know of his brother’s plan to open a business of some sort, from the tabs he had kept on him. He still feared, knowing how immature his little brother was, Dante was just going to open a competing gentlemen’s club, to the many other degenerate places already within this area of the city. 

“An agency that specialises in demon hunting. You know, our forté brother!” Dante stated proudly. Going to take another sip of his beer. Only to find it completely empty. No matter how much he comically shook the bottle above his open mouth. 

All of a sudden, the bottle was snatched from his hands. Startled, he looked over to find Mary placing it on the shoddy coffee table in front of them. “Have you even named this place yet?” She asked in a condescending voice. 

“Well, not yet! I was going to debate a few ideas tonight, until you guys showed up.” Dante shrugged.

“Hey!” Mary cried. Grabbing a hold of his crimson tank top, and pulling him close to her. A threatening look in her eyes.

A look of panic shot through his boyish features, as he quickly raised his hands in innocence. “I mean you were the one asking! I’ve just spoken the truth-

“I’ll do it Dante” Vergil suddenly uttered in a soft voice. Causing Dante and Mary snap their heads towards the man in blue. A gentle smile sneaking across his pinkish lips, as he tenderly traced the ornate guard of his blade by his side. “Your business…It seems like a worthy career father would approve of."

“Hell yeah!” Dante cheered triumphantly. Jumping up, and dashing around the back of the sofa, before swinging his arm around his brother’s shoulders. Holding the startled man in a tight head lock, as he aggressively ruffled his twin’s perfect hair. “We’re gonna be a family business, Verge!”

“Dante! Get off of me!” Vergil yelled, as he desperately tried to rip his brother’s arm off him. Only to find it too constrict further around his neck the more he struggled.

“No can do bro~” He chuckled. 

“So what about me then?” Mary interjected sharply. Causing Dante too quickly turned his gaze towards the brunette. His hold around his irate, squirming twin lessening. "You’re going to have to give me a lot more than that, to get me to work here.”

The Devil hunter suddenly realised his brother from his grip, and walked around behind the young women. Hands on his hips, as he bent his head down beside her. “Oh, so you're a _Lady_ of business then?” He taunted with a playful smirk, obscured by his mop of hair. "Alright Lady, how about you get one quarter of every job you're involved in?”

“Make it a half.” She swiftly rebuked. Her tone was cool and business-like, as she extended her index finger and poked him square in the forehead. Forcing his head backwards. 

“Hell no! I’ve gotta- I mean, me and Vergil gotta eat!” Dante yelled flustered. Throwing a hand up to his sore forehead, and rubbing it. Her efficiency had taken him by surprise, and he couldn't quite tell whether she was joking.

“Dante. We don’t need to consume food to survive.” Vergil stated in a matter of fact voice from the side. 

Dante turned towards his brother. “Well sure Mr starvation! Maybe you don’t! But I kinda like to have something to eat now and again-“

“Make it three quarters.” Mary quickly slipped in. 

“Yeah sure.” Dante agreed, waving a dismissive hand. Only for the realisation of what he had said, to hit him like a truck. A look of horror slowly creeping onto his features, as he frantically waved his arms; “Wait! No! No! I didn’t mean that-"

“Too Late.” Mary smiled devilishly. Extending a hand towards him. “I'm happy to be of service to you, Dante~”

Vergil broke out into uncontrollable laughter at his twin’s misfortune. Hardly able to keep a hold of himself, as he clasped a hand to his chest wheezing violently, “You are an utter fool, brother!”

“Shut up...” Dante whined half-heartedly, puffing out his reddened cheeks in annoyance. Before flopping forwards over the backrest, hanging there like a limp doll. His face pressed into the brown, leather cushion in defeat.

“There there..” Mary cooed in a soothing yet taunting voice, as she clumsily patted his head. All Dante could do was grumble in response.

But despite his outwards appearance, Dante couldn’t help but feel happier than he had done in a long time. A small smile gracing his lips as he looked up at his brother and new companion. 

_Heh, What a heartwarming family reunion!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! (▰∀◕)ﾉ
> 
> Those poor boys! I do subscribe to the headcanon that Vergil is just a big cry baby deep down while Dante is more silent when he cries. I think its a nice contrast that fits in quite well with their mirror characterisation! But even still, I just want to give them both a big hug! ;_;
> 
> Tumblr: https://louadorable126.tumblr.com
> 
> I am very excited about tomorrow's AU! So please keep an eye out for that! :D


	7. Cyberpunk AU Part 1 - (Dante, Lady, Vergil, Morrison, Nevan)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy! This was a difficult one to come up with. 
> 
> So this was written….somewhat last minute compared to most of my stories. For the longest time, I couldn’t think of anything to write that would be a substantial story in an AU. Either because the ideas may as well be a fic of their own or would only work for a very, very short story. Neither of which I was particularly keen on at the time.
> 
> But then I so happened to watch a movie on Netflix called “Altered Carbon: Resleeved” (Which is really, really good! And is worth checking out even if you have no idea about the main Altered Carbon TV series itself), and I found myself really liking the idea of Cyberpunk for a DMC based story. 
> 
> So after an intensive brainstorm, and having plenty of time on my hands due to quarantine. This story was written! :D
> 
> Now I’ve had to split the story into two parts. Mostly because I only had enough time to write out one part of the overarching story, and that it was getting pretty long. But Part 2 of this Cyberpunk adventure will be published eventually. So please keep an eye out for that! It would be much appreciated! :D 
> 
> This part should be focusing more on Dante and Lady, as well as a collection of other characters. So do not threat my fellow Vergil fans! He’ll be here soon! I promise!
> 
> And finally, I’d like to thank Venomous-Lawyer for putting on this week! As well as the other content creators! It's been a blast to do this! 
> 
> Anyway! Enjoy the story! :D

Lady was always a heavy sleeper. In fact, if she had the option to stay forever trapped in sleep's warm, dark, peaceful embrace - she’d accept that offer in a heartbeat. Today was certainly no different.

_"Good morning Mary! It’s 8:4_ _5AM and 14°C_ _outside!”_ Her apartment's AI chirped in its obnoxiously peppy voice. Ignorant of its owner’s wish to be left alone, as it automatically opened blackout shutters covering her window. " _Would you like for me to put on the news?"_

“Yeah yeah, just put it on!” Lady grumbled sleepily. Her voice muffled as she pressed her face into her pillow. Her delicate eyes found the sunlight streaming through the window to be too harsh to bear at this time in the morning. “God, why did I have that thing installed in the first place?!”

The questioning of her life choices was cut short as the large, wall mounted TV across the room from her automatically switched on, and a news anchor's monotone voice began to fill the apartment. 

_“ **And in other news, Emperor Mundus was pleased to announce a recent victory against the city state of Vigrid late last night. Under the general-ship of Lord Sparda, who was recently brought in after 7 months of failed campaigning against the enemy city, a swift and decisive victory was brought with minimal casualties-“**_

Rolling out of bed with a grunt. Lady eventually pulled her lazy ass from the floor, and stumbled her way through the mess of blankets covering the floor. Slowly making her way over to the small bathroom on the other side of her apartment. She stood in front of the washbasin, hands pressed down onto its false marble surface to support herself, as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror hanging above it. 

Ok, she had to admit slumber did have its downsides. It certainly hadn’t done her appearance any favours, if the mess of bed hair sticking out in every direction imaginable was to go by. Nor the dark bags hanging beneath her clouded heterochromatic eyes. 

_Something needs to be done about this,_ Lady thought to herself groggily. Reaching for a hairbrush resting on a nearby shelf. 

**_“Emperor Mundus has also announced another ascension lottery will be taking place this weekend. Any human wishing to be converted into a demon is welcome to take part and put their name forward. A reminder to all you viewers, that this is a rare opportunity gifted to the very few. So now is the time to sign up-"_ **

_There! Much better!_ Lady smiled to herself. Now feeling far more awake after splashing her face with water. The minty taste of her mouthwash was still fresh on her tongue, as she finished up putting on the last of her makeup. 

Leaving the bathroom, Lady grabbed a few items of clothing from her closet and dumped them on her sofa bed. She took a moment to gaze out of the window. Despite living here for the past 9 years, the view of the city she had never ceased to blow her away. 

A beautiful mess of skyscrapers rose up into the thick smog that seemed to always cover the city like a sickly blanket, illuminated from below by garish neon lights from the lower city. Intermixed within were several large billboards advertising the newest of pop culture available to the masses, and large holograms of beautiful women dancing seductively. A large disk rested above all of this, blocking out the sunlight from above and leaving the human inhabitants of the lower city in near-total darkness. 

Turning her gaze away from the view, Lady quickly snapped back to reality, as noticed the time in the upper right hand corner of her TV. 

"Crap, I’m going to be late to meet Morrison!” She yelped in a panicked voice. The young woman immediately began to get changed at a rapid pace. Frantically putting on a loose fitting white-shirt, a tartan red and black shirt, and dark stockings. Before shoving her feet into her newly acquired thigh high boots. Not caring if they didn’t fit snugly, as she pushed against the rigid dark leather in a hurry. 

Grabbing her set of pistols off her dresser and holstering them on her belt. She quickly put away her sofa bed and hurried over to her beloved rocket luncher - that was leaning against the wall near her cramped apartments entrance - and strapped it to her back. She let herself adjust to its weight for a moment, before sprinting out the door and descending down onto the dirty street below. 

* * *

Making her way over to the bar, where her current employer Morrison resided, was far harder than Lady was expecting. 

Sure, she’d anticipated the hordes of people blocking her path, as they themselves head off to work for the day. As well as the uncomfortable manoeuvring that came with carrying her large arsenal of weaponry through such a compact setting. But the sheer amount of people standing around on the street today certainly was….alarming. 

She highly doubted it had anything to with their victory over Vigrid. The human population couldn’t care less about their demonic overlords conquest of new city states. And she would have been alerted by her household AI if any formal celebrations had been declared if that were the case. So what on earth could have riled them up so much?

She soon got her answer, when Lady found herself wandering past the epicentre of the crowd. A man, who looked to be in his late forties, stood high above the masses on a ramshackle podium. He was dressed in a long white robe, with an equally pure coloured veil obscuring his face. His arms stretched wide open towards the misty sky above, as he bellowed in a righteous voice; “Sweet Lambs! Our gracious overlord has once again given us the opportunity to become something far greater than our measly human flesh! We should strive to be our purest and most worthy if we are to be chosen-“

_Oh god. Not those fuckers again!_ Lady gritted her teeth tightly at the display. Her hands curling into fists by her sides. _“Something greater?" Yeah, because being turned into an abomination against your will is really something to strive for!_

She glared up at the angelic figure with a passionate fire in her eyes. Her elegant brows furrowed in fury. "Those fucking demons and their propaganda! How many more of us do they want to experiment with? Was the last batch not enough?” Lady whispered angrily under her breath. Earning her several disapproving looks from surrounding bystanders. 

Ever since the city’s founding it had been like this. The genetically superior demons ruling over their subservient humans. Living in luxury in the skies above them. While their human stock lived below them in this shit hole. None of these “Ascension lotteries” were really anything else but recruitment drives to refill their numbers after each and every brutal campaign they held. 

Working in the mercenary business, Lady had seen plenty of what had come of many of these prospectors. If the augmentations carried out on them failed to take. Many would go insane, and become horrifying monsters. Even then, those demonic bastards still weren’t through with them! Keeping them locked up, until they needed suitable canon fodder to throw at their enemies. Or if they escaped, it was her job to put them down before they could cause too much havoc. It was unknown how many ended up like this. Given that if anyone did successfully survive, they were unlikely to return to the human realm. Yet, the masses still believed them! 

The brunette huffed angrily, and began to shove her way through the ignorant crowd. Marching over to her destination across the square from them. 

When she arrived at the rather dingy, rustically styled old bar; that was mostly composed of polished mahogany wood. She was pleasantly greeted by a familiar voice from across the room. “Hey Lady! I see you've finally decided to show your face!"

Lady began to saunter over to a table near the back of the establishment. Giving the grizzled bartender a small nod of greeting as she passerby. "Yeah sorry about that Morrison. Have you seen the crowds out there?”

“That I have little missy.” Morrison said with an amused grin, as he watched her approach. Sitting surrounded by shot glasses, and an ashtray filled to the brim. He certainly matched your stereotypical image of a Noir detective, with his bowler hat and fancy suit. “Crazy fuckers the whole lot of them!”

“That they are.” Lady sighed lightly, as she sat down on the worn, wooden seat opposite. Running a cool hand across her face tiredly. “So you said you had a job for me?”

There was a brief pause, as Morrison lit up another cigar. “Yeah, and a pretty big one too from the sound of it!”

“Big?” The brunette raised an eyebrow at that. “Let me guess. Another lesser demon on the loose?”

“Sounds like it.” Morrison replied in a raspy voice. Letting the thick smoke from his cigar plume out into Lady’s face. "Apparently strange sounds have been coming from a neighbours house. Our client suspects something is amiss.”

“Ah great. Just what I needed today.” Lady groaned. Fanning the smoke away from her face. 

“Hey, if it helps! The client said he’s willing to pay extra to make sure that poor bastard is gone for good. None of this ‘returning it to the authorities’ business.” He waved his finger disapprovingly at that last statement. 

“You know me Morrison. Like I’d do that anyway.” Lady countered defensively. A haunted look marred her youthful face, as the words continued to poor out of her mouth. "Those people are already as good as dead. Killing them is just a mercy."

“You’re certainly right about that. Poor sods.” The black man sighed sadly. Pouring himself another shot of liquor from an almost garishly blue bottle, before downing the whole thing in one gulp. 

Seeing this as a good note to leave on. The brunette rose from her chair and began to turn towards the door. “Well, I best be heading off then. I’ll see you soon, Morrison!"

She was swiftly stopped in her tracks by the man’s smooth voice. “Oh yeah! By the way Lady! If you want that bonus, you’re going to have to bring me some sort of evidence that it’s dead.”

Lady spun back around to face him. Letting her hands come to rest on her dainty hips in annoyance. “Really? You’ve got to be kidding me! How the hell am I meant to drag a big chunk of meat back here unnoticed?” 

The black man shrugged. “Hey! I’m not the one making the rules here! Clients request.” 

“Alright then.” Lady smirked half-heartedly, as she gave him a small wave. "Bye Morrison!”

“Have a safe trip little missy!"

* * *

The target house was by no means in a “good” neighbourhood. Situated across the other side of town from where Lady lived, it was certainly a trek and a half to get over there.

Keeping her pistols close to hand, as she navigated through the dark, maze like sections of the lower city. She eventually found herself standing in front of a rather tacky looking Pizzeria. Windows half smashed in and barely held together by duct tape. A half eroded plastic figure of your stereotypical Italian man placed just outside its entrance. The pillars holding up the front of the shop plastered with every kind of graffiti or punk sticker, that was slowly peeling off its base, imaginable. It certainly didn’t look like the type of establishment that served the most sanitary of meals. 

Yet, given that there seemed to be people inside happily working at the front desk. It seemed like an operational business. With a rather overworked kitchen, located on the second floor, if the brief shadows Lady had peaking out rushing from the paper thin blinds were anything to go by. No sign of a home in the slightest.

_This is the address Morrison gave me. Where’s the house?_ Lady wondered, putting a finger to her chin thoughtfully. 

She strolled around the premises in utter confusion for a few more minutes. Before, thankfully, one of the Pizzeria workers spotted her, and took pity. Leaving their post on the front desk. They came outside to greet her, before helpfully pointing her in the direction of a back alley located around the other side of the shop. 

Lady said her thanks and quickly ran to the alleyway. Finding what looked to be a clustered of small houses awkwardly built into the cramped space behind the Pizzeria. 

_Talk about town planning! This is awful!_ The brunette mused, as she wandered down the alleyway. Her brown eyes glued to washing lines hanging above her, as she tried to avoid the water dripping down from the drying rags. Unfortunately for her, a few of the cold droplets managed to find their way down the back of her neck, causing her small frame to shiver violently. 

When she finally arrived at her destination. Lady was surprised to find the building seemingly abandoned. Certainly not a good sign.

Reaching down to her pistols, she preemptively held down the trigger and started charging them up. Feeling far safer when she heard an excited buzzing sound emanating from them. The three diagonal slits of white lights carved along the barrel, glowing brightly in the darkness. 

Final checks done. Lady gave the door a quick knock to double check nobody was in. When there was obviously no replay. She gave the flimsy, plastic door a roundhouse kick and broke it open. Sending it flying off its shoddy hinges. After a quick fist pump at her handy work. Lady entered the building.

The first thing that became apparent to Lady, was the thick stench of decay masking the place. One far too pungent to be from any rubbish left lying around. Then there was the body sprawled out across the kitchen floor. A young woman, who looked to be in her early twenties, holding a kitchen knife defensively in her right hand. Though there wasn’t much left of her, given how long she must have been laying there. 

But apart from that, there were no signs of any lesser demon being present in the building! Normally Lady would expect to see more claw marks, or destroyed furniture scattered around the place. But aside from the dead body, this place looked almost irritatingly humble.

Feeling exhausted after her long trek over here. Lady took the opportunity to sit down on the cream sofa in the living room. She let out a tired sigh, as she raised her hands to her temples. Massaging them thoroughly, as her eyelids rolled shut. Letting the comfortable darkness take the strain off them for once. Those damn Neon lights always had that effect on her-

All of a sudden, the room began to tremble as though an earthquake had hit it. Dust came pouring down from the ceiling in waves, as a lovingly framed photograph went flying off a nearby wall. Crashing to the ground with a mighty crack. Alongside several other memorabilia. 

“What the hell was that!" Lady imminently jumped up to her feet and held out one of her energy pistols with murderous intent. Her eyes full of paranoia, as she scanned the room for the source of the trembles. An eerie silence over taking the place, until all that was left was the young women’s heavy breathing. 

Taking a moment to stumble backwards. The brunette quickly picked up the fallen photograph from the wooden slats on the ground, as she pressed her back up against the wall behind her defensively. She shook away the remaining glass shards from the shattered frame. Before examining the photograph with a curious eye. 

A rather plain looking young man, with mud coloured hair, smiled proudly as he held an elegantly decorated roll of paper to his chest. Dressed in the academic robes of his forebears. He seemed content in life, as he stood next to the young woman who was now laying dead on the cold floor. 

_Guess this has to be his graduation. Which means that the woman over there was probably his girlfriend or sister._ Lady thought to herself sadly. Her fingers tracing the wooden frame aimlessly. _If nothing is here, I should at least tell the authorities that she is dead. I can’t imagine what that poor guy must be going through, wondering if she is ok._

Carefully lowering the photograph to the floor. Lady’s observant eyes noticed a strange crack in the floorboards, that was seemingly covered up by the honey-coloured Persian rug placed on top of it.

_Well that’s certainly suspicious! I’ve seen enough horror movies to know where this is going!_ Lady joked to herself. A slight smile forming on her lips. 

Pushing the coffee table aside and rolling up the Persian rug. Lady was pleasantly surprised to find what looked to be a trap door’s frame etched into the wood. She got down onto her knees and attempted to pull the door up. But found the wood to be too stiff to move, even after digging her fingernails into the cracks. 

“Crap!” Lady muttered, pulling back from the trap door. “You’re certainly playing hard to get, aren’t you?"

She needed something to pry that thing open. Her hands certainly weren’t cutting it, and she didn’t exactly want to sacrifice her nails for the cause. A crowbar would be good around about now! But she doubted any such thing would be lying about nearby….

“Oh why didn’t I think of that before!” She almost had to mentally slap herself for forgetting that she had a bayonet attached to the end of her rocket launcher. Getting up from the ground, the brunette swiftly pulled the hefty weapon off her back and rammed the bayonet’s sharp edge into the gap. After a moment of tension, the pressure applied to the wood past its maximum threshold, caused the trap door to crack open. A cloud of dust shot up and quickly overwhelmed Lady’s vision. She tried to fan some of it away from her face, but she couldn’t prevent it from reaching her lungs, causing her to cough a little. 

Once the dust had settled, the brunette hesitantly looked into the enclosed space. In the darkness her eyes soon met the glowing green of another.

“RAHHHHHHHH!” It screeched ear-bleedingly loud, as the creature launched itself at her. 

Lady threw herself backwards. Rocket launcher squarely aimed at the grotesque monster rising out of the darkness before her. 

Well….she certainly wouldn’t have to worry about contacting the male associate of the deceased women. As what remained of him hissed at her with savage intent. Half-composed of slime covered tentacles, and the other melted entirely into some weird fleshy goo. There was barely anything left of what could be considered that joyful young man in the photo; aside from his fang like teeth or human-like glowing green eyes. 

It began to encroach on her. Tentacles flailing wildly, crashing into surrounding furniture and reducing it to rubble. Lady fired off one rocket at its chest. But it had little effect in slowing its pace. She may as well have poked it with a stick, with how she'd riled it up into a more vicious fury!

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She swore under breath, as she fired off yet another rocket. She sprinted towards the front door, desperately trying to maintain a safe distance from the lesser demon with little success. 

All of a sudden, the creature lurched out one of its black tentacles for her foot, as she got to the doorway. Thankfully, it found little success, as Lady swiftly stamped down hard on it with the heel of her boot. Causing the creature to wither in pain long enough for the brunette to make it out onto the alleyway. 

Backing away from the abandoned house as far as she could. Lady hid behind a pile of garbage. While the creature struggled to fit through the narrow doorway. 

_Ok, so it's immune to rockets. What else could work on it?_ The young woman examined hurriedly what was on her belt. Two grenades, her energy pistols and one med pack. _Maybe it doesn’t like the plasma from my pistols? Here’s hoping!_

A mighty crash sound rang out, as the creature practically broke off the flimsy front of the building. It sniffed around for a moment, black snot pouring from its deformed nose, until it successfully caught her scent. Letting out a horrifying roar, it charged her position on all fours. 

Lady frantically fired her pistols at it. Unfortunately, her paper-thin theory proved false, as the plasma equally had little effect on the creature. Simply covering it in a boiling white goo; its slimy skin seemingly immune to heat damage. 

_I’m going to die._ It was a morbid thought. But, as the lesser demons enormous shadow engulfed her small frame. Lady knew she had little time left in this world.

As black slime dripped down from the creature's watering mouth onto her white shirt. Lady closed her eyes, and expected her fate bravely….

“Oi! Since when has harassing pretty ladies become a common thing around here!” A boyish voice yelled out of nowhere. Lady could swear she could partially hear the smile in his tone. 

Snapping her eyes open. Lady watched in amazement, as something insanely fast and sharp, cleanly severed one of the creature's tentacles in the blink of an eye. 

The creature turned around to face this mysterious figure. Through the gaps in its dark tentacles, Lady could swear she saw a crimson glow emanating from the shadowy figure’s body. One so awfully similar to the green glow of the lesser demon’s eyes.

“Yeah! That’s it big guy! I’m the one you want!” Heckled the young sounding man. Slicing through several more tentacles this time, with what Lady assumed to be some kind of sword. 

In a matter of seconds, the mysterious young man had somehow managed to slice off every tentacle on the creature. With nothing to defend itself any longer. The lesser demon was powerless to stop the razor-sharp sword the man held, from impaling it directly in the heart. It fell to the ground with a pathetic whimper. Leaving Lady’s saviour to proudly stand atop the fallen creature. A playful, charming smile on his face, as he leaned against his glass-like, crimson-hued great sword.

Unfortunately, her saviour didn’t exactly get the reaction he was expecting. When Lady backed up against the alleyway wall behind her and aimed her pistols square at his head. Her heterochromatic eyes wide and fearful, as she realised who was standing before her. 

While they didn’t come down from their paradise often. Almost every human alive could name the key physical features of their demonic overlords. This demon was certainly no different. Easily fulfilling all those key traits with his unruly white hair, sharp blue eyes, pale skin, and stupidly handsome face. 

He had seemingly at least tried to hide his identity, if the red cowl he was wearing was anything to go by. It seemed connected to a loose-fitting red scarf, and oddly enough those two pieces of clothing made up most of the fabric on the young man's body. A short red vest with golden accents barely covered half of his chest, some black wrapping was apparently attempting to cover the rest of it with moderate amounts of success. But his softly toned, muscular midriff was still on glorious display to anyone looking at him. Though it was hard to tell whether that was accidental or on purpose. 

“You’re not taking me to be converted, you demonic bastard!” Lady screamed at him through gritted teeth. Her fingers tightening on the trigger of her gun. “You're gonna have to risk your life, if you wanna try!”

The demon raised his hands in defence.“Woah, woah, woah babe! I’m not gonna try anything like that! It's not even in my remit!”

“Well, why are you down here then?” Lady asked with a sneer. Gesturing towards the metal plate resting high above them. "You bastards don’t just come down here because you feel like it! There is always a goddamn reason!”

“I’m looking for my big brother! There!” The demon blurted out in a panic. “He went missing and I want to find him before my dad gets back home! He’s gonna kick my ass otherwise!"

Lady lowered her gun in confusion. “Your dad?” 

The demon's shoulders seemed to relax slightly when she lowered the gun. “Yeah! Sparda’s my old man! So you can probably imagine what he's like when pissed-“

“Lord Sparda is **_your_ ** dad?” Lady couldn’t just believe what this demon was saying! The Emperor’s second in command was this idiot’s father!

“I thought we already covered that, babe! Man, you’re slow!” The demon teased with a shit-eating grin, as he smoothly brushed back one of his long, silky locks from his face and tucked it behind his ear. Unaware of the young women turning bright red with rage.

“I’m. not. slow!” Lady growled furiously. Her brown hair practically standing up on end, like she was an enraged cat. "And stop calling me babe!”

“Well what should I call you then?” 

“Lady!” She hissed at him.

The white-haired man shrugged. “That’s no better than Babe anyway!” 

The brunette snapped at that. She raised her pistole once again and charged it up to max. “Just call me Lady, or I swear to god I’ll shove this gun so far up your pretty boy ass-“

“Ok! Ok! It's nice to meet you Lady!” His voice grew softer near the end, as he smiled brightly at her. Cautiously, the demon approached the young women and held out his hand in greeting.

Lady knew it would be rude to reject his offer of peace. And so with a sigh, she grabbed ahold of his hand, and let him pull her up. “You too I guess, uh…"

“Dante. Dante Sparda!” He introduced himself with a flamboyant bow. Like he were a prince trying to win over a fair maiden. 

Obviously this was quickly stone walled by Lady, as she pushed past him to examine at the slaughtered creature behind him. She bent down and curiously poked one of its severed slimy tentacles, before pulling away in disgust. “How on earth am I going to drag this back to Morrison?” She sighed in a defeated voice. 

“Morrison?” Dante inquired, behind her.

“I’m a mercenary for hire. Morrison is my boss.” Lady stated simply, as she attempted to pick up the viscous muscle with little success. Quickly slipping from her hands before she could leave it any higher than her ankle. “My client said he wanted evidence of this thing's death if I want my bonus.”

“Man that sounds though!” Dante prattled in a carefree voice. Before a guanine look of concern grew on his face, as he watched her struggle. “You need some help with that?”

Lady stared down at her slime soaked hands grimly. “Would be appreciated, yeah!”

Pulling his crimson great-sword from the lesser demons chest. He walked over to the tentacle and slammed his blade into it; like a butcher cutting meat, he carved out a pencil-sized chunk. He lent down and picked it up from the ground. Taking a moment to squeeze out its remaining juices in his vice-like grip, before tossing it at the young women. “That’ll work for you?”

Lady examined the tentacle in her hand for a moment, then nodded. “It should. Thanks…for the help.”

It honestly surprised her how kind this demon was being. Perhaps, it was wrong of her to assume they were all pompous assholes-

“The pleasure’s all mine babe!” Dante chirped, winking at her. 

Ok….maybe not.

* * *

Unfortunately for Lady, her time with that demon didn’t end there.

Before leaving the alleyway, Dante had practically begged her to let him come with her. He’d first tried the “Protection” angle. Saying that they were in a dangerous neighbourhood and somebody might hurt her. Needless to say, he almost got a face-full of plasma for that. Barely dodging her sudden shot with an superhumanly timed duck. 

After that, he quickly divulged his true reasoning for wanting to come with her. He wanted to meet Morrison. 

It was a fair reason, and Lady didn’t see anything particularly bad coming from them meeting. Aside from the demon possibly picking up Morrison’s crippling alcoholism. So, she’d allowed him to trail along behind her. Granted, he wasn’t exactly the most….inconspicuous figure with that stupid outfit. But, with his snowy hair covered up in a red scarf, nobody seemed to bother them as they headed back to the bar. Even when they passed that crowd of demonic worshipers. 

“Huh, so we’ve got cults down here now?” Dante muttered in a wistful voice, as he looked back over his shoulder at the large crowd.

Lady raised an eyebrow at that. Was he that sheltered? “Yeah! Did you not know that?”

The demon rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well, I’ve only been down here a few times on missions with my brother. Though, he normally drags my ass away from anything not related to our task."

“Probably a wise decision by him! God knows what those nutters would do if they realised a demon was in their presence.” Lady reasoned. Opening the bar door and ushering Dante inside.

As expected, Morrison quickly spotted them from the other side of the establishment. “Aye! You made it back! Nice work, little missy!” He cheered proudly, waving to the pair. 

Lady smiled brightly at the praise, and strolled over to the cluttered table. Throwing the slice of tentacle at her employer playfully. “Thanks. Was a lot tougher than I was expecting! I hope this paycheck is good.”

Morrison examined the tentacle in his hands for a moment, before nodding. “Yeah, this should do nicely! The money is all yours Lady. I’ll send it over now.” The man quickly tapped on his expensive looking watch, causing Lady’s phone to vibrate excitedly in her pocket. Signalling the transfer had been made. 

Lady pulled her phone from her pocket, and grinned like a child on Christmas Day when she saw the figure transferred. “Thanks Morrison!”

“Yeah yeah! I know!” Morrison said coyly. Waving his hand in a dismissive manner. "Now who’s this friend you’ve got standing behind you?”

“Somebody who I picked up along the way…” She didn’t exactly want to mention he was the one who killed that lesser demon. Even though the money had already been transferred, Lady didn’t want to disappoint Morrison with her inadequacy. “He said he wanted to meet you.”

“Well, I’m always open to new clients! Take a seat my friend!” Morrison said welcomingly. Gesturing to the wooden seat across from him. Dante complied with his request and sat down. Playing with the soft fabric of his scarf, and more over pulling it down further to obscure his face. He tried his best not to wither under the black man’s curious gaze, as he not-so-inconspicuously craned his neck down in an attempt to get a peak of what lay beneath the young man’s hood. “What can I do for you?”

Before Dante could open his mouth to speak. Lady quickly butted in; “I’ll leave you boys to discuss business! I’m going to get myself something nice with that bonus.”

“Fair enough! I’ll contact you if another job comes up” Morrison assured her. 

Lady nodded, and turned to leave. “Sure! See you soon Morrison!”

The bar door slammed shut soon after that...

Grabbing a nearby shot glass, Morrison poured a healthy dose of liquor into it. “Hey, you want some of this? It's the finest whiskey I could get my hands on.”

Dante thought about the man’s offer for a moment, as the black man downed the shot he had just poured. Normally, Vergil would berate him for drinking on the job. Something about how it was “unprofessional” - blah, blah blah! But since he wasn’t here. Dante realised he could do whatever the hell he pleased!

“Sure. Load me up!” He grinned rebelliously. Tapping his foot on the floor impatiently, as he waited for Morrison to pour his shot. Once the shot glass was filled to the brim, he slid it over to the young man. Its alcoholic contents spilling out across the table. Dante took ahold of the glass, and hesitantly raised it to his mouth. Resting his warm lips against the rim of the glass; like a man, he downed it in one swift movement. 

He immediately regretted his choice, as the liquid seemed to be more poison than pleasure - his throat burned with a feeling he hadn't known before, causing the young demon to cough and wince in pain. Sadly for him, coughing just caused some of the whiskey to make its way back up his throat, the pain starting to become eye-wateringly bad before he could even smash the glass back down onto the table.

“Holy shit that’s strong!” He rasped weakly, clutching his throat.

The black man bursted out in roaring laughter, slapping the wooden table joyously. “Oh man you crack me up! Guessing it's your first time?”

“Yeah.” Dante confessed shamefully. He was just thankful his hood hid his burning cheeks. 

“Ah don’t worry about it! All of us gotta start somewhere!” Morrison reached over and eagerly patted the young man’s cloaked shoulder. “Say, how about I give you this job of your’s on the house?”

“Well, it's not really a job per-se-” Crap, he needed to be careful with how he words this. He can’t exactly ask ‘Hey, has a demon in blue, who uses a katana he loves way too much, been spotted recently?’ That’ll just be too obvious!

Dante tapped his shot glass methodically to the rock and roll beat of the bar’s jukebox, as he tried to think of the right words to put in his mouth. Morrison sat there patiently, lighting up a cigar. A kind look in his dark eyes, that reassured the young man he could take as much time as he needed. 

“Has anything weird been happening recently? Around the last three days or so.” Dante asked in a quiet, yet direct voice. 

Morrison lent back in his chair. “Now that you talk about it. I did hear through the woodwork, that some crazy fucker had been hitting up all the citizen registration data centres across the city. Not sure why they’d want to do that! But apparently all security in these places were pretty much massacred by this guy! And man have the security corps been freaked out by that!” He paused for a moment to take a puff of his cigar. "They’ve been sending me offers left and right. Scrambling for mercenaries to make up the numbers they’ve been loosing! Good pay too! Dread to think how much that guy has been costing them!"

Dante froze up at the information he was hearing. Only one person, other than himself, could cause that kind of carnage. _Christ Verge! What the hell has gotten into you? You’ve never been like this!_

It seemed incredible to think that his soft-spoken, stoic, by the book older brother, could go off the rails like this in a matter of days. Slaughtering likely hundreds of humans on a bizarre and bloody crusade, that Dante couldn’t hope to understand. 

What did Vergil think he was accomplishing by all this? This certainly didn’t sound like an assignment the higher ups would give. At least not to a son of Sparda. Meaning that this was a personal mission by his brother. But, a personal vendetta against birth records and tax returns? Yeah, that was a weird target, even by his brother’s standards. 

_You always like to make things difficult for me, don’t you brother! Gotta add 5 more layers of complexity to everything you do!_ Dante sighed to himself. Sliding a hand underneath his hood to stroke his soft hair soothingly. 

“Know anything else past that?” He inquired. 

“Nah, I’m sorry kid. That’s all I know about the matter.” Morrison apologised, with a shrug. Dante thought that was then the end of that. Until, Morrison’s brow suddenly furrowed deeply in thought; leaving a sharp crease on his forehead. His index finger wiggling aimlessly in Dante’s direction. “Although, I do know somebody whose got more direct ties to these incidents.”

Dante perked up at that. “Oh?”

“Yeah! There’s a strip club owner near here, who's got some financial investments in a local security company. Apparently they got hit about a day ago by our mysterious killer.” Morrison dipped the end of his cigar in his ashtray with a satisfying crackle, before tapping off the excess ash. “I’m sure if you sweet talk her enough, she’ll probably show you the body cam footage. Doubt there is anything incriminating on there that would make her think otherwise.”

The way the man talked about this strip club owner, almost reminded Dante of the stiff and clinical pre-mission lectures he used to get from his superiors. With their verbal diarrhoea of information, he could barely remember half of it by the end. They used to annoy the shit out of him. Yet, there was something about how Morrison spoke - the way his rich accent embellished every word leaving his mouth - that made this pseudo-mission sound more like a thrilling adventure, than a duty expected of him. Something the hyperactive part of Dante’s heart had been craving, even since he’d started being sent out on missions in his early adolescence. 

“That seems like a good lead. Thanks Morrison!” Dante exulted, rising from his chair excitedly and spinning around to leave.

Suddenly, a warm hand snatched a hold of Dante’s muscular arm. Halting him in his tracks. The young man snapped his head back to the older man in confusion. Only to be met by a cheeky smirk playing on Morrison’s lips. 

“Forgot to mention, kid. You know that strip club I was talking about? Well, my girl Lady lives right next door to them!"

“Oh really?” Dante grinned devilishly, drawing emphasis on every syllable he spoke. Wanting to prolong the giddy feeling of childish mischief, bubbling up within his gut, for as long as possible. 

Morrison gently let go of Dante’s arm; allowing it to fall back to the demon's side effortlessly, before crossing his own dark arms across his broad chest. “Yeah! So do with that information as you will, lover boy!"

* * *

It didn’t take Dante too long to find Lady again. In fact, by lucky coincidence, they had practically walked into each other as he left the bar. With the demon narrowly missing her by an _ever so small_ margin. 

The brunette, however, wasn’t so blessed by Lady Luck. Both having the wondrous misfortune of running back into that obnoxious demon once again, and tripping up on his feet as he darted to the side of her. Sending the young women crashing to ground face first, alongside her shopping bag. 

“Oh god! Not you again!” Lady whined, as she pulled herself up from the cold ground. 

“I guess the fates don’t want us to be apart, babe!” Dante cooed in a dreamy voice. Leaning down to meet her enraged face, as he licked his lips sensually. “Now how about a kiss?”

Lady thrust the palm of her hand at his shadowy face, and pushed him away furiously. “Go fuck yourself, Dante!” 

Dante lost his balance at the sudden shove of his face, and fell to the ground beside her. Landing on his ass, hard. “Ow! Alright I’m just kidding!” He cried out, as he rubbed his sore backside. Hesitantly gazing up at the murderous brunette standing over him with a heartfelt grin. "It's good to see you again, Lady!"

“Yeah, you too.” She huffed in a sarcastic tone, turning away from him. The nerve this demon had! She wasn’t his hottie-hottie play thing to be flirted with! They’d only met two hours ago, for crying out loud! 

Lady began to march away from the fallen man, her boots clicking against ground at a rapid pace. Hoping to get as far away as possible from him; preferably back home where she could lock him out of her apartment. Unfortunately for her, upon realising she was leaving him, Dante had pulled himself from the ground and began to chase after her like an obnoxious loyal dog.

“So, what did you get with your bonus?” Dante asked eagerly. His inquisitive gaze aimed squarely at the wine red, paper bag in her hand. 

“That’s none of your business!” Lady barked over her shoulder. Pulling the paper bag closer to her side, defensively. 

“You wouldn’t have got that bonus without my help!” He reminded in a whiney voice.

He wasn’t exactly wrong about that. But Lady wasn’t going to back down now, as she spun around to face him. Pointing her finger at him accusingly. “What are you trying to get at here? Do you want something from me?”

Dante rubbed his smooth chin. “Well, now that you talk about it. I don’t have anywhere to crash tonight.” His playful aura soon dissipated, when he earned a furious glare from Lady, that practically bore through his very being. A deep scowl on her face. He quickly backed-down and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I, uh- didn’t really think that far ahead when I left.”

“Just get a hotel room. There’s plenty nearby-"

“I didn’t bring any money.” Dante stated awkwardly. He’d been in such a rush this morning. That had naively assumed he would find Vergil relatively quickly, and would be back home in time for dinner this evening. Of course, things turned out to be more complicated than he thought. And honestly, the demon couldn’t be asked to trek his way back up to the upper floors at this point. His legs were already killing him!

“You…didn’t bring money with you?” Lady asked in a softer, more kinder voice; that took the demon by surprise. A compassionate look to her delicate features, that for a moment, led Dante to believe that pity might prevail- 

"Christ! What do you demons get everything free up there!?” She fumed, gesturing to the plate above them.

“Not really. I’m…just an idiot” Dante confessed honestly, gazing down at his leather boots in shame. 

“At least you’ve admitted it.” Lady sighed, rolling her eyes. “Alright, you can stay one night. But no more than that!”

Dante rushed forward and embraced her, crushing her small frame against his chest. “Thanks Babe! You’re a lifesaver!”

The brunette froze at the sudden contact. Awkwardly resting her chin against his shoulder, as her thin arms remained prone by her sides. “If you keep calling me that you’re going to be sleeping with the trash outside!” She threatened in a muffled voice.

“Well I’ll just get to see what you’ve been throwing out! Let me guess; food, packaging, lingerie-“

“Oh you pervert!” Lady snapped, shoving the demon away from her. Causing Dante to stumble backwards into a middle-aged woman walking behind him. He quickly blurted out an apology to her, as Lady brushed down her skirt, and readjusted the strap of her rocket launcher. “Look, we best get going.”

“Yeah, yeah! I’m following ya!” Dante exclaimed. Lightly patting the middle-age women on the shoulder, and adding in a charming wink for good measure. Before rushing off after the brunette. His crimson scarf blowing gently in the wind, as the two of them departed down the bustling road of neon signs and packed shops. 

* * *

Lady had never been too keen to invite friends or co-workers to her home. The most obvious reason, one would assume, was a matter of her own personal safety. She’d made plenty of enemies throughout her career as a mercenary, and so she liked to keep her address a closely guarded secret to all but a close few, such as Morrison. But, there was a far more…embarrassing reason as to why she liked to keep her address under wraps.

“Love planet, huh?” Dante audibly muttered behind her. Lady froze on the spot and quickly spun around to find him gazing up at the establishment's garish neon sign. 

The sign itself was a wonder to behold, to say the least. Silhouettes of skimpily clad women flashed obnoxiously on and off, as they thrust their hips against the establishment's title. Proudly displayed in large pink letters, wrapping around the horizon of a mock planet. Dotted with love hearts, big and small, in every space imaginable. It took up the whole front of the building, leaving nothing but dirty, soot covered plaster behind the glitz and glamor.

_Oh great. I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?_ Lady sighed deeply. Cringing internally, as she heard one of the holographic figures on display outside moan sensually. 

“Look, I already know what you're thinking, and yes, I do live next to a strip club.” Lady confessed in a defensive tone. Facepalming into her hand at the bullshit she expected to spout from Dante’s mouth in a moment, and not because she was trying to hide the heat rising to her cheeks. "Now, can we leave it at that-“

“Hey, do you think they serve food?” 

“What?” Lady yelped in surprise. Did…this demon not know the difference between a strip club and a restaurant!?

“I’m absolutely starving right now! I haven’t eaten since this morning!” Dante whimpered. Dramatically rubbing his bare, muscular torso, where his stomach would be. A childish pout on his full lips, that gave Lady the impression he was giving her his best puppy eyes, under that red hood of his. 

“Yeah they might? But I wouldn’t live by that. Come on, I’ll make you some food at home-“ Lady reached out to grab his arm, only to find empty air where he was previously standing. Startled, she quickly looked up to find the door to Love Planet slamming shut behind somebody. 

_Oh great! He’s already gone inside!_ Lady sighed to herself. Shaking her head in dismay.

She knew she couldn’t just leave him in there. His lack of money and impulsive attitude seemed like a recipe for disaster, if one of those strippers decided to take advantage of him. And even though she wasn’t particularly keen to help his sorry ass. Lady knew full well what it was like to be thrust out onto the cold, hard streets for the first time on your own; having no idea where to go or who to trust. Even if Dante was far older than she was at that time. 

"God dammit, Dante!” Lady swore under her breath, as she ran over to the strip club’s heavy doors and threw them wide open. Only to be blinded for a moment by a harsh strobe shining in her direction. 

_Ah! That’s bright!_ Lady thought, covering her eyes with the back of her hand. Hesitantly stepping forward into the darkness, as the doors behind her slammed shut, sending a cold draft rushing past her legs.

When the light finally span away from her, the brunette slowly lowered her hand. She was actually quite surprised by the clean, professional atmosphere of the operation before her. Not even looking half as scummy as she’d been imaging in her head.

A neon lit runway ran down the centre of the building. Flashing between colours red, pink and purple, to the beat of a loud, electric beat blasting over the speakers. Then there were the private booths hugging the walls surrounding it. Each one with a plush velvet curtain in a cutesy pink colour, that had been closed on a few of the booths. Implying that they were currently taken by someone

A large stage stood in the middle of all this. Where a woman in a tight fitting, sparkling purple bodysuit, danced provocatively around a pole in the centre of the stage. Her elegant crimson hair somehow maintained its perfect composure, as it swung through the air with each impressive acrobatic movement. 

After she had finished her final swing, the stripper slowly slid down the pole and lowered herself to the ground. Her dark high heels clicked against the artificial stage floor, as she strutted over to an eager observer of her’s, who had been watching her entire performance in awe. She bent down to him with a sinister smile on her lips. Letting their eyes meet for a moment, before she blew the man a kiss. Then, without another word, she departed backstage.

Just then, Lady’s mind finally caught up with her. She let out a silent scream as she realised who the mysterious observer was. 

“Dante! What the hell are you doing!” She exclaimed angrily. Storming over to the demon and grabbing ahold of his arm. Forcing him to turn around and face her.

"Can't a man appreciate a pretty lady every so often?” Dante said with a winning smile that somehow made him more punchable than before.

“Oh you’re such an idiot-“ Lady was cut off, as an intruding finger tapped her shoulder.

The brunette spun around, and found a rather doll-like young woman standing behind her. Dressed in a similar outfit as the stripper from earlier, although in primrose colour rather than dark purple, her golden locks were tied up into two twin ponytails sprouting out the back of her head. “Excuse me, are you two looking for an evening of excitement?”

This wasn’t good. Lady had heard plenty of horror stories from fellow mercenaries that had started like this. A nice girl comes up to them and asks if they need anything. And a few hours later, they wake up stark naked in an alleyway half way across town. Granted, she had Dante with her. But Lady really did not want to take that kind of risk right now. “Uh, not really-“

“Do you ladies do food?” Dante asked eagerly. Leaning forwards and shoving his way between the two girls. Leaving Lady stuck behind his broad torso, out of sight. 

“Oh yes~” The stripper purred. "We here at Love Planet provide anything our client wishes! Would you like me to fetch you some menus?"

“Yeah, that would be great! Thanks babe!” 

“No worries mister~” She chuckled, as she playfully clawed his chest. Before walking over to the nearby bar. Returning moments later with a set of pink, leather backed menus, that in Lady’s honest opinion could do with a few rounds of bleach chucked over them before they were safe to touch. 

The pink stripper led them over to a booth near the back of the club, right next to what Lady assumed to be the staff door to the backroom. She gestured for them to sit, and pulled open a draw underneath the raised platform the booth was on. Taking out a set of fluffy love heart-shaped pillows and plushies and handing them over to Lady with a wink. “We only get these out for couples. So enjoy!”

When the stripper left, Lady quickly threw a bat-shaped plushie at Dante’s head in a panic. “You take these! I don’t even want to think what some perverts have done to them!”

Dante picked up the bat plushie and held it to his chest lovingly. “Don’t listen to the mean woman, Alucard! She’s just making assumptions about your past! Those pretty ladies have treated you well, haven’t they?!” Dante cooed lovingly. 

“I can’t believe you dragged me in here! 10 years, and I’ve avoided coming in here all that time!” Lady grumbled, as she grabbed a hold of the pink menu and quickly flicked it open. Dropping it down to the table, so that she didn’t need to hold it any longer than she needed too. 

Dante soon joined her, flicking open his own menu and scanning through its contents. There was a peaceful silence between them. Neither making a sound, as the harsh, electric rock rang out across the club. Interspersed with girlish laughter and moaning from the booths around them. 

Yet, this was soon disrupted as Dante let out a surprised squeal of excitement. “Holy shit! They serve **_that_ ** here!”

Lady looked up from her menu in confusion, unsure of what could have caused such a joyous reaction from her partner. “What is it?” She asked mutely.

Dante turned his menu over and held it out for Lady to look at. Tapping the area of interest with one of his fingers. The brunette raised an eyebrow. “Pizza? What’s so special about that?”

She may as well have told him his dog died with how quickly his overjoyed facade dropped like a stone. Leaving an offended, almost violated look on his face. “How could you say that!?” He gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Pizza is the best food ever created!”

“Well if that’s the case, why are you so excited about it? Surely you’d have it all the time _upstairs_ if you liked it that much!” Lady countered, with what she thought was some pretty sound logic. "You demons certainly like to make it out as some sort of heavenly paradise!” 

The demon froze up on the spot. Seemingly not knowing what to do with the question posed to him. Lady thought this was rather strange, given that she hadn’t exactly a particularly hard or sensitive question. At least that’s what she thought. But the way Dante suddenly refused to meet her gaze, as he looked intently at the anything but her; be that the next round of strippers prancing around the runway with their hologram doubles, his pink menu or the sleazy table itself. Made Lady worry she had pushed him too far.

“Heh, well….we don’t actually need to eat.” Dante confessed quietly. Rubbing the back of his neck, with a sudden awkward smile. Pulling off the metaphorical bandage as quickly as possible. Knowing his cover had already been blown. 

Lady slammed the table with her hand. “Wait! SO YOU DRAGGED MY ASS IN HERE-“

“Shhh! Keep it down!” He hushed her, waving his hands around in surrender. Dante quickly looked around, hoping that Lady’s outburst hadn’t drawn too much attention to them. _Maybe_ should have told her the truth from the start. But it was far too late to do that now. Damage control was probably his best option right now, if he didn’t want to get shot at again. “I actually wanted to come here for a different reason. But, we’ll get to that in a minute!”

Lady glared at him for a moment longer, before leaning back in her seat. “Fine. Go on!”

Dante breathed a sigh of relief. “Alright,so because demons don’t really eat. We don’t have any kind of restaurants or takeaways of the sort up there. Meaning the only times I’ve been able to have Pizza is when I’ve been down here on assignment.” Dante explained. Putting down his menu to one side. "But that’s not to say that none of us eat! I mean, my household is kind of an exception as Eva cooks for us-

Lady raised her hand to stop him. “Wait, who’s Eva?”

“Oh! She’s our Nanny! Been in dad’s service since me and big bro were born!” Dante stated fondly. "Apparently our mum died around that time, so he was struggling to juggle his duties as a badass general and a single father. So he hired a human to look after us! A damn good decision too if I might add! Her cooking is the best! 

“She seems nice.” Lady smiled. Surprised he wasn’t acting like an irritating prick for once, and was actually opening up to her. “Didn’t think someone as well-respected as Lord Sparda would hire a human to work for him. Thought you demons had a policy against that kind of thing?”

His partner wasn’t wrong. Dante knew full well what the punishment for secretly housing a human on the upper floor was. Death or exile being the two most common. It still amazed him his dad even took the risk, when a demonic wet nurse would probably have far less repercussions down the line. But Dante certainly wouldn’t have it any other way. He and his brother loved Eva deeply, and would do anything to protect her. Even if it meant covering for her on a regular basis. 

"It's…kind of a secret. Any time somebody comes round to visit, she either hides in the kitchen or her bedroom upstairs until they are gone.” Dante admitted quietly.

Lady immediately picked up that this was a sensitive topic, and lowered her voice accordingly to all but a hushed whisper. "That sounds tough. Is she alright with that?”

Dante shrugged. “Yeah she’s grown used to it. Done it for so long now, I think it's become second nature to her."

It upset Lady that this was the way the world was. Here she was, thinking that she wasn’t following these demons' propaganda. Yet she’d equally been following their belief that humans and demons couldn’t co-exist together. That the arrogance and mistrust of both sides would make that impossible. But, the fact that Lord Sparda seemed to care for this human, letting her raise his children and keeping her hidden, just proved both her’s and the wider public's beliefs wrong. It broke Lady's heart that Eva must have been living in hiding all this time. Never once leaving the Sparda household or living some sort of life, simply because she wanted to help out a struggling individual, regardless of who they were. She was a true martyr in all respects. 

Lady wanted to say something. Anything to vent the boiling frustration building up inside of her at the world. But before she could open her mouth to speak, a deep feminine voice sliced through the secretive atmosphere between them.

“I see you’ve made yourself at home, sugar~”

The pair turned their heads towards the source of the voice. Before them stood the stripper in purple from earlier; still in her tight-fitting body suit, but now wearing a rich, black fur coat over herself. Her sharp auburn eyes contained an animalistic look of hunger, as she gazed over at Dante. 

The women stepped up into the booth, and closed the pink curtain behind her. She moved towards Dante and sat herself down next to him. The demon tried to slide away from her, moving further up the leather bench. But before he could make it very far, she’d grabbed ahold of his hood with her elegant hands and pulled it down in one swift movement. Revealing Dante’s white hair to the open air. 

“That’s much better. No more secrets between us~” The stripper purred in a hushed voice. Leaning in closer to Dante, and slipping her manicured fingers under his chin. Forcibly tilting his head towards her. Their faces uncomfortably close, as her warm breath tickled his lips. “You’re far too handsome to be covering yourself up like that-“

“Um, excuse me. Who are you?” Lady inquired, in only a mildly panicked voice. Hoping to god this stripper was trustworthy now that she had removed Dante’s hood. 

“Oh dear! Did I forget? My apologies little one~” The women chuckled lightly. Letting go of Dante’s chin. "My name is Nevan. I’m the owner of this establishment. Morrison told me to expect visitors-“ She looked back over at Dante, and bit down on her bottom lip fiercely. "I just didn’t expect them to be this good looking~"

“Thanks for the compliment babe!” Dante beamed brightly. “And yeah, this is the actual reason I wanted to come here. Morrison said this lovely woman had information on what my brother’s been up to."

Lady almost choked on her own breath at that sudden plot twist. _Wait, so he isn’t a pervy idiot? Is he actually carrying out competent detective work? Dammit Dante, you always seem to find a new way to amaze me._

“Oh? So _he’s_ your brother? How _very_ interesting…” Nevan smirked darkly. Her pretty chin resting in her hand, as her fingers methodically tapped her cheeks. “Yes, with that sort of information I think we can make a deal. But first, is there anything my girls can get you to make your stay more pleasurable?"

“Can you get us three rounds of Pizza?” Dante immediately requested in an eager voice. His boyish features filled with excitement, as he jumped at the older woman’s offer. 

“Of course! Anything for you sugar~” Nevan stuck her hand out through the plush pink curtains and clicked her fingers. A moment later, another stripper came to the curtain and the older woman whispered a series of orders to her. When she was finished, the stripper departed and Nevan turned back to her guests with a pleased nod. 

“Yes!” Dante cheered with a fist pump.

Lady was tempted to voice her annoyance about not getting to choose for herself. But given how happy Dante looked. She’d let him off for once. It had been awhile since she had indulged herself in a Pizza anyways. So no harm could come by having it again. 

Their order came in surprisingly quick, with Pizza arriving on their table within 5 minutes of having it ordered. Lady suspected they probably had warmed up some frozen Pizza in a microwave. But despite the lack of effort in cooking it, the food itself didn’t actually taste half bad! From the little Lady had nibbled from her slice, it was certainly passable. Maintain a satisfying stringy texture to the cheese, whilst the tomato base was just the right kind of sweet to not overload her taste buds. 

Dante meanwhile had already devoured half of his Pizza. He’s pale cheeks splattered with tomato sauce, as he happily hummed to himself in a muffled voice. Mouth stuffed to the brink with food. 

“Well aren’t you a hungry boy!” Nevan giggled, reaching for a nearby tissue. “Here, let me clean you up~”

Dante’s cheeks turned bright red as the sauce covered them, as Nevan wiped away the unwanted tomato sauce from his face. Gently patting his snowy hair, like a mother, when she was done cleaning him. “That’s a good boy~” She moaned softly. 

From across the table, Lady coughed abruptly. “So about this deal?”

“Ah yes!” Nevan exclaimed, clapping her hands together in realisation. “Ever since my... _s_ ide business was hit. I've been struggling with making an insurance claim to recoup my losses from that attack. While I’d normally be able to identify the assailant name or appearance. The way the attack took place...it's been hard for me to get any kind of real information on him.

Lady raised an eyebrow. “Hard?”

“It's probably better if I show you.” Nevan tapped the table with her knuckles, causing a sudden burst of light to emanate from it. When it dissipated, a holographic women laid across the table. Dressed in a black bikini that lead little to the imagination, she was posed like a model laying on a beach. Head turned towards Lady, with a childlike pout on her drop-dead gorgeous face. She wasn’t there for long however, as Nevan the swiped her elegant hand across the table surface and brought up a light blue, holographic keyboard. She began to type a series of commands into the console menu, causing the bikini model to vanish in a flurry of pixels. Replaced with the camera feed of a corridor

A group of armoured guards stood in a defensive line across the narrow corridor. Their assault rifles raised, as they seemingly shouted for someone to surrender. Suddenly, a flash of dark blue light flashed up across the screen, obscuring the camera feed for around two seconds, before it died down once again. But where several guards stood only a few seconds before, now lay their dismembered corpse sprawled out across the floor. As though they had been cut to pieces by a skilled butcher. 

_Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick!_ Lady had to forceable hold down her guts instinct reaction, as she threw a hand to her mouth. Her other grabbing the fluffy heart-shaped cushion beside her and clutching onto it tight to her chest. She had certainly seen her fair share of grim scenes in her time, but none as gruesome as this.

Dante, while not seeming particularly disturbed by the graphic scene, had a mixed look of uncharacteristic seriousness and disappointment in his blue eyes. Not for himself it seemed. But rather aimed towards someone else. “Yeah, that's Vergil. Nobody else uses that kind of combat style.” He confessed, painfully soft.

“Combat style?” Lady asked. Confusion clear in her shaky voice. 

“See the way those men have been cut to pieces?” Dante pointed at one of the more complete corpses, and traced the line of the cut across the man’s chest. "Only somebody who uses a katana could have made those slices. Which is my brother’s weapon of choice. Well, that and the blue glow are pretty big giveaways!”

“Why would a glow matter here? Surely, he could’ve just been flashing a torch at the camera.” The brunette questioned.

The white-haired man leaned back with an awkward smile on his face. “Heh, I could tell you. But it’s kind of a 'super confidential military secret’ that nobody is meant to know about!” Dante blurted out quickly. 

Nevan frowned at him, as her thick crimson locks sagged sadly around her pretty face. “Come on, sugar! You don’t want to disappoint me, do you?”

Dammit, he was always a sucker for a pretty women! Especially when she looked so heartbroken! Dante sighed to himself, as he ran a hand through his hair. What was the worst that could happen from telling them? It was common knowledge to pretty much any demon. So it would be hard to track back to him telling two humans about it, if any enemy city where to learn of its existence. Mundus would certainly hunt through the upper demonic rankings for treachery, before he’d think to look for a mercenary and a stripper.

“Alright.” He relented, with a playful eye role. “So you know how demons have genetic alterations done to them to make them superior to humans? Well…” Dante brushed back the long hair covering the back of his neck. Revealing a red chip inserted at the base of his skull. “At birth, demons are given a chip that allows them to command the nanobots in their bloodstreams, typically to assist them in battle. They serve all sorts of purposes, such as helping to heal wounds quicker than your average human-“

Lady held up her hand. “Wait? So those genetic alterations don’t jack shit other than give you white hair and a superiority complex?”

“Nah, they also help to increase muscle mass, slow ageing and other stuff.” Dante stated off-handedly. He wasn’t exactly sure what many of the alterations to his genetics did - given that he wasn’t a scientist. But he could guess a thing or two, from what he had observed throughout his lifetime. “But none of that’s important to what we are talking about here, babe!”

“Ok, carry on!” Lady prompted. At least somewhat satisfied by his answer. 

“When in battle, a demon can call upon these nanobots to “Trigger” into a stronger form. In other words, your skin up to your jawline turns into a metal exoskeleton and every sense becomes more enhanced. That, and the added strength you gain from it, are all pretty sweet! But man, does it tire you out the longer you stay like that!” Dante paused for a moment. His mouth still hanging open and twitching occasionally, as though he were debating with himself if it was ok to continue. “My….uh, brother used to always say it was because the lactic acid in your muscles go into overdrive, and we still haven’t found a way to clear it out fast enough."

“So you’ve done that before?” Lady asked. Pointing to the holographic image with her thumb. 

“With far less brutal murder of innocent people, yeah!” Dante shrugged nonchalantly. “See, the thing about “Triggering” is that a blast of light typically accompanies it. Mine’s red, but Vergil’s….”

“Is blue.” Lady finished his sentence. Now on the same line of thought as him. “Crap.”

“So that’s how he defeated my men so easily….” Nevan muttered to herself. Swiping her hand across the table once again to turn off the holographic display. Leaving the area far darker than the pair remembered, once the light had completely faded away. Nevan turned her head towards Dante, a business-like smile on her face. “Thank you for your insight, dear!" 

“No worries, babe! Hope that’s all you need.” Dante asked. Reaching down to grab another slice of now cold pizza and taking a bite out of it. 

“Yes, that should suffice!” Nevan nodded. Rising from her seat and turning to leave “I hope you two have a wonderful night!” With a small wave of goodbye to the pair. She departed through the plush curtains. Her long black, fur coat trailing behind her. 

* * *

After Lady finally managing to drag Dante out of that god-forsaken strip club. It wasn't long until the pair soon made their way back to Lady’s apartment. 

Climbing the stairway leading up from the busy street, Lady led Dante down a narrow corridor. When she arrived at her front door, the brunette hesitantly knocked, before drawing backwards to allow her home’s AI to identify her face.

_“Authorisation?”_ It demanded in a robotic voice. 

_“_ Mary Arkham” She stated clearly. Causing Dante’s eyes to glance over at her in bewilderment. 

It was embarrassing that she always had to use her real name when talking to her AI. She had wanted to change it over to her new name. But since she had registered her apartment in “Mary’s” name. Her household AI, who was only programmed to recognise the “owner’s” name from the citizen’s registration network, would only answer to “Mary’s” name and not her own. Well…not unless she wanted to upgrade to a $250 monthly plan. Which she sure as hell wasn’t doing on her income!

After a brief moment of processing, her AI came back with an artificially cheery voice; _“Welcome home Mary! I hope you had a wonderful day!”_

The apartment's door, on queue, flew wide open. Lady stepped inside and wiped her feet on the doormat, before beckoning Dante to follow.

"Man, your place is small!" Dante blurted out, as he looked around the room.

"Well I didn't exactly have the fortune of being related to a top general.” Lady smirked, taking off her rocket launcher and leaning it against the wall once more. "It serves its purpose at least."

"Really? Then where the hell is the bed?!” Dante exclaimed. Throwing his arms up in confusion. 

Lady rolled her eyes at him. "Give me a second.” 

Dropping her shopping bag off on the kitchen counter. The brunette walked over to her sofa and removed the cotton, cream colored pillows covering it. Once they had been dumped to one side, she pressed a button on the underside of the armrest. Slowly but surely, a bed began to fold out from the sofa. Leaving a mattress, ready to be made, extended across the room. 

“Wait, so your sofa is a bed?” Dante gasped.

“Um…yeah?” Lady replied, not sure why he was so shocked by the concept of a sofa bed. They really must not have much in the way of vanity on the upper floor if he was that sheltered!

All of a sudden, the young man ran over to the sofa bed, and threw himself onto the mattress like an hyperactive child. The shoddy bed audibly groaning at the sudden weight that had been thrust upon it. Lady cringed at the high-pitched squeaking sounds, fearing the bed was on the brink of collapse, as Dante indulged in his childlike wonder. 

“This is the coolest thing ever!” Dante cheered, rolling around on the bed. “I’ve got to get Dad to buy one of these! It will totally piss Vergil off!”

He rolled around for another few minutes, before his explosive energy finally wore out. Leaving Dante sprawled out across the entire bed. His fallen red scarf trapped underneath his body, as his snowy hair now looked closer to a thick, fuzzy mane obscuring his pale face from sight, with how unashamedly disheveled it had become. 

“Alright Dante, you’ve had your fun! Now can you please get off?” Lady requested politely, poking the demons exposed hips with malicious intent. Causing him to squirm and curl into himself. “I need to put the blankets down."

Dante grunted and buried his face deep into the mattress “Do I have to, babe? Its so comfy~” He whined childishly.

“Yes.” Lady stated bluntly. "If not, I’m going to roll you off this bed, and you’ll be sleeping on the floor tonight!

Dante immediately stopped complaining, and pushed himself up in an instance. Sitting in an unnaturally stiff manner at the side of the bed. He looked over at Lady with a fearful look in his eyes. 

“See! That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Lady smiled, patting him on the shoulder like an approving mother. She walked over to a wicker basket near her TV, and pulled out a haphazardly wrapped blanket and two plump pillows. She carried them back over to her bed, and set about arranging them. 

Dante watched on in curiosity. Giving the pillows ,in particular, a quick squeeze to find that they were pleasantly soft to the touch. Just Lady was just about to throw the blanket up into the air and drape it over the bed, Dante quickly asked; “Hey, do you have a shower or something I can use?"

“Yeah, there is one in the bathroom over there! Feel free to use it.” Lady called over her shoulder. 

“Thanks, babe!” Dante cheered. Getting up from the sofa bed and strolling over to the small bathroom. Slamming the wooden door shut behind him, with an accompanying stratifying click of the metal lock. 

Despite her previous reservation about jumping on the sofa bed. Lady practically collapsed back on the thing when she was done with her work. She placed a tired hand over her eyes and rubbed them sleepily, as the soft sound of pattering water from the shower, gently drifted across the apartment.

“Hey Home, can you turn on the TV for me?” She yawned.

“ _Of course, Mary! What channel would you like me to play?”_ The artificial voice chirped happily. 

“Just any music one! Don’t really mind what genre.” Lady grumbled, as she tiredly stripped off her clothes. Leaving her in a tartan patterned bra and underwear. 

As soon as she'd finished speaking the command, the TV flashed to life. It immediately began to play an obnoxiously catchy pop song that was far too peppy for Lady’s tastes. Had she the energy, the mercenary would have asked her AI to change the channel in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, the warm embrace of sleep had already began to drag her down into its comforting embrace once again. Placing her beloved guns on the bedside table beside her. She crawled under the thick blanket, and closed her eyes. Letting thoughts of today wash over her. 

It still seemed weird that she had somehow met a demon today. One which she, out of all her good judgment, had invited to stay with her tonight. At the time she hadn’t thought much of it. But now that he was going to return in a few minutes, and would be sleeping beside her all of tonight. The reality of the situation dawned on her. Causing a deep-seated anxiety to claw at her gut. _Oh god! What have I done?_

But wait, this was Dante she was talking about. Nothing about him from what she had observed today - such as the childish glee she had seen him display at ever new thing he had encountered, or the playful banter that had erratically bounced between them, in a way that made him ever so endearing - pointed to him being like the demons of her nightmares. Even if Lady still distrusted him for what he was, she couldn’t deny that her worldview had been shaken to its core by today's events.

_You know he_ _’_ _s a good person at heart._ A soft voice whispered in the back of her mind. _Regardless of his race, he still saved you from a brutal death. Just think of tonight as a way of showing that thankfulness. He deserves it after all that._

Just then, the bathroom door flew open. Steam seeped out from the room in waves, as a pale figure emerged from the mist. Lady peaked one eye open to find a shirtless Dante standing in the bathroom doorway. Thankfully, his modesty was still preserved by a large towel wrapped around his waist, as he roughly dried his soaking hair with a smaller towel. 

“Hey Lady. Are you still awake?” He asked in a hushed voice.

Lady opened her other eye and sat up. Pulling the thick blanket closer to her body in order to keep the room’s icy chill off her shoulders. “Yes. What is it?” 

Dante’s face grew comically flustered, as his blue eyes quickly darted between his now _very_ awake partner staring at him and the towel barely covering the lower half of his body. A tinge of red soon dusting his ghostly pale cheeks. “Umm….give me a moment!” He blurted out in a floundering voice, as he swiftly dashed back into the steamy bathroom. Re-emerging, a moment later, dressed in a pair of black boxers. 

The demon walked over to the bed, and sat down cross legged at its edge. He had his back to Lady; leaning forward slightly forwards with a subtle hunch, as his pale arms rested against his thighs. 

“When I was in the shower. I was thinking about our first meeting in that alleyway again, and something occurred to me.” Dante stated out of the blue. There was a hint of seriousness to his boyish voice that imminently demanded Lady’s attention with how atypical it sounded to her ears. She could only assume he had something heavy weighing on his mind.

“Something to do with that lesser demon?” She inquired. 

“No. It's about something you said.” He paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “Why don’t you want to be converted into a demon Lady?”

Lady froze up at his question. Her survival instincts screamed at her to assume the demon had the worst possible intentions behind his uncomfortable inquiry. _He’s going to take me to be converted. Oh god, I’ve let him isolate me. How could I be so stupid!_ Her eyes began to frantically scan the room for her pistols. _That bastard! He promised me he wouldn’t do anything like that!_

When she finally caught sight of her pistols, Lady realised she had made a grave error of judgment. Sure, they were by her bedside, just where she had left them. But they were on the other side of where Dante was sitting. Even if she lunged for them now, she didn’t have a chance in hell of reaching for them, before the demon's superhuman reflexes would stop her. _Shit!_

“Isn’t it obvious? I don’t want to end up like that lesser demon we fought today.” She responded in a flat, emotionless voice. Hoping she could delay the inevitable long enough to come with a plan. 

“But, that’s not the whole truth is it? There's more to it than just thinking we're all pricks, isn't there?” Dante asked, painfully soft. It was almost like he felt...sympathetic towards her. 

“What are you getting at?!” Lady sneered. Subtly clenching fists full of her blanket to hide her trembling hands. 

“You know, I’ve seen it in your eyes.” Dante suddenly turned around to face her. A mournful expression on his handsome face. "It's the same look I’ve seen my old man have whenever he comes back from a war."

What on earth was he talking about? How could she be anything like Lord Sparda? “Yeah? So what? I’ve never been to war in my life-"

“Has a demon ever hurt you, Lady?” Dante asked bluntly.

“No.” A lie. Though not an indirect one. She had been hurt by a demon of sorts. But she doubted Dante would even consider **_him_** as one, at least biologically. 

Dante shook his head. “You’re lying, babe.”

“No. I’m. Not!” Lady growled furiously in her defence. "Now can we please stop talking about this?”

“Nope! Not until you tell me the truth!” He said like an obnoxiously righteous child. He just didn’t know when to back down!

“I am telling the truth! God you're such a dick!” Lady countered, throwing her hands up into the air.

“Sure! But at least I’m not using makeup to cover up the large scar across my nose!” Dante declared, as he pointed an accusing finger at her nose. Lady’s face distorted in anger, twisting and tensing up, at the very idea of him taking advantage of her most personal deformity to win his petty argument. 

“OH FINE! You want me to tell you how I got it? My father was obsessed with you bastards! Totally swept up by your bullshit propaganda about being the pinnacle of evolution!” Lady couldn’t stop herself now. She wanted to confess every last ounce of hatred within her heart. To make him understand what she had gone through. "When he wasn’t chosen in one of those fucking ascension lotteries, he decided to take matters into his own hands! He became obsessed with becoming a demon. Spending most of my childhood trying to figure out what was being done to people during conversion procedures.”

Lady’s knuckles turned white with how tightly she was gripping the blanket now. “And then, he had the fucking balls to try out his insane theories on my mother! He tortured and mutilated her until she was nothing left but a hulking monster!”

“Lady…” Dante started sympathetically. But was unable to get much out as Lady practically screamed her heart bare to him.

"But that wasn’t enough for him! No. He saw that “experiment” as a success! That it was my mother’s weakness that prevented her from becoming a fully fledged demon. That she wasn’t worthy! So the arrogant bastard decided to test it out on himself!” Lady slammed her fist down on the soft bedding. “That night, when he began to experiment on himself. I discovered what was left of my mother in the basement. I-I freaked the fuck out when I saw what she had become. So in a panic I called the cops.” 

She began to tremble at the memories rushing back into her mind. Both her anger at the past and stark fear she was now re-living in the moment, swelled up in her glassy eyes. “But then, my dad found me on the phone. He screamed at me and tried to cut my throat with a paper knife; but he missed and slashed right across my nose. I ran and hid in a closet, as he prowled around the house, sniffing the air for my scent like a fucking animal. About an hour later, a division of the demonic military arrived and slaughtered my father in front of me.” 

Lady wiped furiously at her eyes with the palms of her hands. Desperately trying to keep the warm liquid escaping them out of sight from Dante. As she continued in a shaky voice. “I heard their superior officer order them to search the house and kill anyone on sight. I-I was so scared they would find me. So I-I had to hide in that c-closet for the w-whole night. Only able to look at my father’s manic grin of p-pleasure on his corpse, as I heard g...gunshots ring out from the basement and m-my mother’s distorted w-whimpers of pain!”

The brunette couldn’t hold back the tide of grief swelling up inside of her anymore. She broke into racking sobs that quickly overwhelmed her small body, causing her to convulse violently. She curled into herself, letting her dark hair stick to her wet cheeks and hide her face from sight.

“That’s why I hate demons. You bastards took everything from me!” Lady wailed. 

All of a sudden, two warm arms encircled her shoulders, and pulled her close to their broad chest. Startled, Lady looked up to find Dante’s gentle eyes gazing down. A bottomless well of sympathy sparkling in their watery blue depths. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Lady.”

He placed a hand behind her head and gently guided it towards his shoulder. Lady gladly took the opportunity to bury her face there. Finding the moist warmth of his wet skin oddly soothing. Mostly so she could pretend that the wetness against her cheek was shower water, rather than her own tears. As she let years of pent up sorrow escape her.

She didn’t even notice herself slipping into unconsciousness, until a comforting peace engulfed her. 

* * *

Meanwhile in a citizens registration data bank across town. A lone figure stood standing in front of a large, metal terminal, flicking through pages upon pages of data with the swipe of his hand, hovering above its screen. 

Despite the rooms clinical atmosphere - with sleek architectural angles, cool palette tones and monolith sized severs framed in blackout glass panning out in every direction imaginable. The floor was covered with the mutilated corpses of countless guards. Large pools of thick, crimson blood pooling across the once pristine marble floor, around the blue coated man. 

The figures’ hand paused for a moment in mid swipe, as the page of interest’s white light reflected in his sapphire eyes. All of a sudden he seized up in horror, and slammed his trembling hands down onto the terminals metal frame to hold his shocked body upright; his legs feeling like jelly beneath him. His eyes widening in unpleasant surprise, as a panicked expression took hold across his stoic features. 

“No! That can’t be right!” He exclaimed in a shaky voice, as he stumbled backwards away from the infernal machinery. Shaking his head violently in denial. 

He almost tripped up on a guards severed arm behind him, with how lost he became to his environment. It was then that he realised he needed to ground himself somehow. As overwhelming anxiety took hold of his body and clawed achingly at his gut - his erratic breathing becoming increasing laboured. He thrust his back against the terminal and slid down its triangular patterned metal frame, like a collapsed rag-doll. Curling into a tight ball and hiding his face in his legs. 

“Father, what have you done?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :D
> 
> Like I mentioned earlier, Part 2 will be coming soon! But I've also been considering turning this Cyberpunk AU into its own spin off fan fiction! (Mostly because I've had way to much fun writing this) So I'd love to know what people would think of the idea!
> 
> Oh yes! And I snuck in a few references here! I thought the bat plushie in Love Planet was a nice nod to Nevan, given that she's associated with bats. So I thought that would be a nice hint to her owning the place. With Alucard seeming the most fitting name for Dante call it, as a small nod to a certain dhampir from Castlevania! The city mentioned at the start, Vigrid, is also a small reference to the first Bayonetta game, that I couldn't help but sneak in!
> 
> Anyway, I'll see you all again for part 2! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ
> 
> Tumblr: https://louadorable126.tumblr.com (Support is much appreciated over there! <3)


	8. Cyberpunk AU - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! :D
> 
> Sorry it's been a little while since the last chapter! Class has started back up again for me, so having to adapt to working from home while writing this took a bit of effort! *Dies under workload* (×﹏×)
> 
> Anyway welcome back! This chapter has been an interesting one to write for me. I’ve decided to turn this into its own fan fiction. So I’ve been having to write a story that stands alone on its own, while also working as a lead into the next chapter! Which turns out wasn’t as hard as I first previously thought! Yay!
> 
> I need to hash out some of the main plotlines going forward. But I will be publishing these two chapters + the next one when I do spin this Cyberpunk AU idea off into its own fic! 
> 
> So please be on the lookout for the next chapter when I publish this as its own separate fic! :D
> 
> Oh and a quick warning! Seizures are depicted in this chapter! So if you are made uncomfortable by them its probably not the best to read this!
> 
> Anyway please enjoy the story! :D

“Boys~ Breakfast is ready!” 

The smoky musk of cooked bacon was potent throughout the house that morning, as Dante rushed down the manor’s grand stairwell. He was half dressed, only barely managing to get a plain white shirt over his head, before he sleepily stumbled into the kitchen. His guardian was never too pleased when he arrived shirtless at breakfast. 

“Mornin’ Eva.” Dante yawned tiredly, standing hunched over in the kitchen door frame. His vision was blurry with fatigue, as he gazed over at the charming woman, happily cooking on an old fashioned stove across the room. 

Upon hearing his voice, she spun around to face him with a flourish of her dress. “Ah! There you are Dante!” She beamed brightly.

Eva Redgrave was certainly a beautiful woman for her age. With her blond hair tied back into a loose ponytail; her deceivingly youthful face was on full display in the gentle, sunlight pouring in through the kitchen window. 

She wore a surprisingly formal dress, almost as though she had gone to a ball the previous night and was still wearing her tight fitted, delicately embroiled, golden dress. The collar being mainly composed of a see-through, skin coloured material - that made it look as though golden vines grew up around her neck. It was extremely impractical, but his old man never once questioned his Nanny’s choice of everyday clothing. Even if Dante suspected it was just a side effect of going mad from being trapped in this house all these years. 

Her gentle emerald gaze slipped past Dante for a moment - gazing beyond the kitchen door anxiously, despite the bright smile on her crimson lips. 

This minor eye movement didn’t go unnoticed however, as Dante started back at her with an equally fabricated smile.  _ She’s worrying about him again. Crap!  _

Dante wasn’t exactly the most punctual of people. A fact that was well known throughout his family, and may as well be a law of nature at this point. He would always arrive late to anything remotely timed. Having barely a care in the world as onlookers would on in annoyance. It was part of his mystique, and he was proud of it. 

His brother, on the other hand, was the complete polar opposite. He was **_never_** late to even the most informal of meetings. In fact, he would most often be the one scolding Dante for his slacker antics.

So for him to either turn up  **_late_ ** , or even  **_miss_ ** breakfast entirely for four days straight - certainly hinted that something was amiss with Vergil. A fact, that while concerning for Dante, had practically sent Eva into a spiralling anxiety. 

He could clearly see how Eva’s hands were tightly clenched together. Her knuckles grew more white by the second, as she took more subtle glances behind Dante. Waiting impatiently for his brother to appear. So much so, she had completely forgotten about the steaming pan next to her - that looked as though it were about to catch on fire.

_ “ _ Hey, uh- are you watching that pan?” Dante quickly pointed out. Gesturing to the pan with an awkward glance.

“Ah!” Almost imminently his nanny spun around and quickly turned off the stove. Hurriedly putting on a pair of floral oven gloves, that were hanging off the oven’s rail and swiftly moving the overheating pan onto a cooling mat beside her. “Phew! That was a close call! Thanks for reminding me!”

“Hey! No worries, Eva! Hopefully breakfast is still in one piece!” Dante chuckled heartily.

“Oh, I should think it is!” Eva reassured, waving away the cloud of smoke fuming up from the pan, and taking a quick peek inside. “In fact, I think it looks far better for it! The bacon seems remarkably crispy!” 

The blond woman grabbed a wooden spatula from a nearby pot of utensils, and poked the pan’s contents curiously. "I might have to do this more often...”

“What? Almost setting the house on fire? Don’t think dad will be too pleased!” Dante joked cheekily, as he walked over to his old fashioned, wooden seat and sat down. 

“You cheeky boy!” Eva smirked over her shoulder at him. Putting down her spatula on the kitchen counter’s sleek, marble surface. “You know your father could have this place rebuilt in a matter of days if he wanted it too!”

“Heh, you're not wrong about that!” 

And she wasn’t. 

Despite the rustic, old fashioned appearance of the Manor House. All it really was, was a collection trillions of nanobots arranged in the image of a grand home. Nothing Dante touched - be it the tiled floor he walked barefoot on, the wooden table he was currently resting his arms on, or the ornately carved ceiling above him - was actually real. 

It was a common technology used throughout the upper floor. Allowing for architectural wonders to be created, that by no means should be able to exist. It certainly showed off their technological prowess to all their neighbouring cities. But while the clean cut, clinical, futuristic style was most commonly used by any sane demonic architect. His dad was….far more flamboyant. Insisting that his house be styled off an old-fashioned Georgian manor house, surrounded by fine countryside for as far as the eye could see. 

Well…as far as the holo-deck's dome allowed anyway!

A few moments later, a plate of food - what looked to be a full English breakfast - appeared in Dante’s field of peripheral vision. Surprised, he quickly glanced up to find Eva smiling back at him, as she put down a pair of silverware beside him. When she turned back to the kitchen counter to load up a second plate of food. 

The demon picked up his knife and fork, and began to inhale the meal with ravenous glee. Tearing into the crispy strips of bacon and ripping them to shreds in a matter of seconds, before letting out a joyous sound of glee at its delicious taste. 

“Dante?” His nanny asked all of a sudden. Carefully placing down the second plate of breakfast next to Dante; before sitting down heavily on the wooden chair across from him, with a loud creak. 

“Yeah Eva?” He responded in a muffled voice. His mouth stuffed full of small mushrooms as he looked up at her. 

“Do you think Vergil’s going to come downstairs soon?” Eva asked nervously. Once again gazing out of the kitchen door with an anxious expression on her face.

Dante gulped down the remainder of his food and he slowly lowered his knife and fork. He knew he had to say something. Anything that could at least act as a gentle reassurance for her. Even if Dante himself couldn’t guarantee brother was actually going to show up at all. 

“He’s...probably just fixing up his hair. You know how Verge is about those kinds of things!” Dante slicked back his hair in a mocking fashion, before shrugging. “He’s a princess! Can’t leave the bathroom unless everything about him is perfect!”

“I can hear you, brother.” Snapped a familiar, nasally voice. Accompanied by the sound of the garden door slamming shut behind him. 

The pair quickly turned their heads at the sound. Finding Vergil standing there, the stark opposite in appearance to how his hot-headed brother had just lovingly jokes. To the point it made Dante’s hardened stomach feel grossly uneasy at the sight of him. 

He looked…exhausted. As though he had been running around all night without a wink of sleep. His deep blue eyes were bloodshot with fatigue; framed by heavy bags of skin drooping underneath.  His usually pristine hair was a disheveled mess. Only barely managing to maintain its stubbornly slicked back form, as his stray, silvery locks dropped dead with exhaustion around their master's face. A face that clearly had remained unshaven for the past few days, if the stubble peaking up around his hard jawline were anything to go by. 

_ Jesus christ Verge! Where the hell have you been?!  _ Dante shouted loudly in his head. Opening up his mouth to let out a silent scream of shock at the state of his brother. 

“Ah….Good morning Vergil!” Eva exclaimed in a jolly, yet uncertain tone, as she got up from her chair and strolled over to him. It seemed as though he was struggling to keep his balance, leaning ever so slightly against the stone doorframe. Not seeming all that there, as Eva reached up to touch his cheek. Her fingertips barely making contact with his freezing skin. “Are you alright dear? You look far too pale-“

“It's none of your concern, Eva!” He growled angrily, as he grabbed a hold of her delicate wrist and ripped it away from his face. 

It only took him a second of contemplation, in the awkward silence that followed the shocking incident, to suddenly comprehend what he had just done. A horrified expression shooting up his face, as he quickly averted his blurry gaze towards the tiled ground; bowing his head shamefully before the blond woman. His voice painfully soft as he spoke; "I’m…..doing just fine.” 

He hesitantly stumbled past Eva, towards his usual chair. Taking a quick glance at Dante’s half eaten plate with a solemn gaze. “I see you've made breakfast. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it back sooner"

“Oh, don’t worry about it!” Eva reassured softly. Waving away his concerns with her hand. "I’ve only just served it up, so it should still be warm."

Vergil slumped down onto his chair, and ran a hand through his hair tiredly. After a moment of hesitation, he delicately picked up his fork and took an uneasy bite out of a slice of bacon. Dante could have sworn his twin was about to throw up, as he painstakingly gulped down his food, with an uncomfortable shiver. His face twisting in vile rejection of the substance entering his digestive system. 

_ He can’t keep that up for long with Eva around. She’s going to expect him to eat the whole thing.  _ Dante quickly glanced up at his Nanny ideally twiddling her thumbs, as she patiently observed his twin eat from behind.  _ I’ve got to get her to leave somehow.  _

“Hey Eva, can you leave us for a bit? Kinda wanna to discuss  _ super _ secret military business with Verge!” Dante asked nonchalantly. Keeping a close eye on his ill-looking brother, as he struggled to down yet another bite of bacon. 

“Sure! The laundry should be done about now.” Eva nodded in agreement, strolling over to the kitchen door. "Enjoy your meal boys! I’ll be back soon!”

When the pair couldn’t hear the sound of her heels anymore, the brothers let out a collective sigh of relief. Vergil imminently put down his cutlery, and rubbed his aching temples with his thumbs. "Thank you, Dante. I wasn’t particularly in the mood for eating right now-“

“What the hell have you been up too!?” Dante snapped accusingly. Slamming his hand down onto the table. “You’ve been worrying Eva sick these past few days!”

Vergil was visibly taken aback by his brother's sudden outburst, a look of panic - with the slightest hint of guilt - sneaking onto his face for just a moment, until his usual stoic demeanor could take over again. His stern eyes now sent a cold glare towards Dante, defying any hint of emotion that he might have shown moments before.“Did no one inform you? I’ve been put on double shifts for assignments until father gets back from Vigrid.”

A lie. Even at the time, Dante had thought it odd his twin had been given assignments without him. Their father had forced his hand a long time ago, to allow for the pair to always be assigned to missions together. 

Sure, there had been times when they had been on separate missions. But that was normally because one of them was severely injured (Dante still swore it wasn’t his fault Vergil had fallen off that building. It...was just that the wind was far too strong that day!) and required a couple of days off to recuperate. 

~~ It was only later, when he had been asking around dispatch, that he learnt that no missions had been posted for either of them. That Vergil had been making the whole thing up to hide what he had truly been up too. Why hadn’t he noticed sooner? ~~

Yet, despite this foresight, Dante found himself blurting out a familiar set of lines without thinking. His eyebrows raised in suspicion; “Seems kinda strange that I wasn’t invited along for the party! You sure they didn’t want me too?"

“They….wanted someone with...negotiation skills. Somebody who could speak subtly with culture and nuance. Something I know you particularly struggle with, brother.” Vergil stated bluntly. A tired smirk playing on his lips.

“You wound me, bro!” Dante cried dramatically, clutching his chest with a childish pout. “Come on! You know the babes love me down there!”

Vergil ignored his younger twin’s ramblings, and shook his head with a sigh. “They didn’t want you, ok? Can we just leave it at that?”

“Sure! But seriously Verge, you’ve got to take better care of yourself. You’re a complete mess right now!” Dante gestured to all of Vergil’s unkempt being with his hand. A concerned look uncharacteristically etched into his boyish features. "I’ve never seen you look so- well…. _ scruffy _ ! It's just so unlike you!”

Vergil looked incredibly self-conscious - as though he had only just become blatantly aware of the severity of his appearance. Without hesitating, he slicked back his messy locks with one hand. Trying to preserve what little of his dignity remained, as his ghostly pale cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Awkwardly adjusting the embroidered cufflinks of his rich blue, velvet coat; as he spoke in a breathy voice, ladened with hidden stress beneath its surface: 

“I….I will, Dante. Just please give me a little more time-“

A cheerful knock at the kitchen door cut him off. Startled, the twins quickly turned face the door. Seeing the pale shadow of their matriarch peeking out behind it. 

“The washing’s done!” Eva’s gentle voice chirped from outside the room. “Am I allowed to come back in boys?"

“Yeah we’re good now, Eva! You can come back in!” Dante called out. 

A second or so later, their Nanny walked into the room holding a basket of washing under her arm; her golden ponytail flowing behind her. The clicking of her high heels swiftly came to a sudden stop however, when she caught sight of the boys untouched plates. She raised her eyebrow curiously.

“ Have you been forgetting your food over all that military talk? You know life isn't just about fighting, boys! Even if your father certainly makes it seem that way these days."

_ Crap! I completely forgot about the food!  _ Dante almost wanted to mentally slap himself for his stupidity - and given the searing glance Vergil gave him, he certainly wanted to do the same. As the pair awkwardly looked down at their now less-than-steaming plates. Neither not really knowing what to do. 

Dante began to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, as he blindly stumbled around his mind for a suitable cover answer. “Ah yeah…sorry about that-“

“I’m done with eating, Eva. I’m afraid my appetite isn’t exactly all that there today.” Vergil admitted honestly. Pushing his plate across the wooden table towards her.

Wordlessly, Eva slid her hand beneath its ceramic surface and lifted it from the table ever so slightly - looking as though she was going to simply head straight for the kitchen bin, and cast away the plate's delicious contents into its murky deaths. But when the plate simply hovered in the air, Eva gently placed a soothing hand onto Vergil’s broad shoulder. The elder twin let out a startled sound, and quickly tilted his head up to look at her.

“You know, that’s exactly what your father used to say to me.” Eva chuckled lovingly. A dreamy look in her gentle eyes, as she gazed down at the young man. Reminiscence of a distant past playing on her lips. “He'd often forget his food because he was talking so much back then.”

All of a sudden, Vergil’s muscles grew stiff beneath Eva’s fingertips. A strange look of horrifying realisation crossing his features, as though he had just solved some grand conspiracy theory - or at least gained a cursed insight into one, with how unsettled he appeared. His deep blue eyes wide in disbelief, as his pinkish lips trembled with temptation. A forbidden question itching to leave his mouth.

Without saying a word, he bluntly rose from his chair; causing Eva’s hand to slip pitifully from his shoulder. His face was clouded in shadow, as he practically ran out of the room and into the hallway.

“Hey Verge! Where the hell are you going?” Dante yelled, throwing his hands down onto the table and quickly rising from his chair, perusing his irrational twin. Rushing past the elegant nanny, who stood there in stunned silence, her fallen hand barely reaching out after the elder twin but soon retreating back to her side. An expression of hurt marring her beautiful features, as she shook her head mutely in defeat. 

Dante practically threw himself out into the grand hallway. His right shoulder colliding with the kitchen door painfully as he did so, causing a hiss of pain to escape his mouth. But he didn’t stop moving. He simply couldn’t. Vergil was never this irrational. Never this secretive. Something was horribly wrong, and every inch of Dante’s identical body screamed at him to do something about it. Even if that meant forcibly tackling his unstable twin to the ground, and forcing him to spill the beans before he tried something stupid!

“Vergil get back here!” Dante cried out, desperately trying to gain ground on his brother as the pair ran down the insanely long corridor. At least if felt that way to Dante. Every step his twin took, it felt as though he needed to take six more to catch up with him.

Yet, the younger twin’s pleas did nothing to slow his brother’s pace, as his long blue trench coat fluttered elegantly behind his fleeing form. Finally managing to reach the mansion’s ancient front door only to find it locked. 

_ Now’s my chance!  _ Dante thought determinedly, as a wild, fang-like grin appeared on his face. Watching his elder brother flounder with the out of place steel keypad beside the front door. Frantically tapping its buttons, with the occasional worried glanced over his shoulder; as Dante closed in on his helpless prey. 

Yet, just as Dante got within touching distance of his brother’s azure coat. Vergil spun around with an inhuman efficiency, and kneed his little brother  **_hard_ ** in the crotch. 

“Aw, fuck!” Dante whimpered. His eyes rolling into the back of his head from the sheer pain emanating from his nether regions, as he crashed dramatically to the ground. Curling up into a tight ball as he withered in pain. All his previous bloodlust lost, as any remaining energy he had left drained from his body. 

Dante weakly lifted his head. His vision hazy from the pain and hair falling in front of his face, as he saw his brother’s silhouette standing over him. The bright artificial sunlight emanating out from behind him giving him a ghostly, almost angelic appearance. In a way that almost made Dante question whether he ever truly existed. As stupid as that thought was. 

“I’ll see you again soon….little brother” Vergil uttered ominously. Before he started to walk away into nothingness. The room now has a white box. Growing unbearably brighter and brighter with every second that passed.

“Vergil….you’ve gotta come back. Please!” Dante wheezed weakly, as he shakily reached into the plain white nothingness that now lay before him. His every cry growing quiet and quieter in comparison to the void’s high pitch buzzing. The sound of a heartbeat banging erratically in his ears like an overworked war drum. 

All of a sudden, the louder clatter of pots and pans crashing to the ground smashed through the nightmarish illusion; it's sound far too crisp and real compared to the floatiness unreality of the world around Dante. Soon accompanied by a familiar feminine voice yelling-

* * *

“SO YOUR JUST GOING TO BE LIKE THAT THEN, HUH? WELL SCREW YOU MINSTER CUPBOARD!” 

“Uh…wha?” Dante mumbled sleepy, incoherently patting the area around him with his hands. Finding the cold, hard floor he though he had been laying on replaced by the feeling of an impossibly soft mattress beneath him. 

He peaked one eye open, then the other. Finding himself gazing up at a rather plain curling, streaked with the odd ray of neon light escaping through the blackout shutters, in confusion. It certainly wasn’t the usual sunlight expected to see when he woke up. What the hell was going on?

Dante sat up and stretched his arms into the air, letting out a muffled sound of bliss as his joints cracked. The layers of blankets that had been piled over him, slipped down off his body and pooled down into his lap. Leaving his bare chest exposed to the room’s subtle chill. 

“Yeah! That’s it! Get. Back. Into. The. Cupboard!” The feminine voice huffed from across the room. Sounding as though she was struggling to hold something back. 

Dante turned his head toward the kitchenette; his long white hair swinging dramatically with his mundane movement. He caught sight of the brunette that he had met the previous day, now dressed in a bright red dressing gown, as she aggressively pushed her back against one of her kitchen doors. Even through the small crack between the door's hatches, Dante could see that the thing was bursting with kitchen utensils, pans and any other equipment a sane person would need to cook with. A look of concentration strained the young woman’s delicate features, she lifted up her knee and pressed it against the wooden door. 

_ Oh right! I was in Lady’s apartment!  _ Dante blatantly realised. Watching as the brunette gave one more massive push for victory, and finally managed to slam the troublesome cupboard shut. 

Stumbling away from the kitchenette, Lady stood deathly still as a tense silence filled the room. Anticipation for the cupboard flying open again, playing heavily at the back of the pair’s minds.  Thankfully, when it didn’t, Lady gave out a joyous cry of victory. A bright smile on her face as she fist pumped the air triumphantly. 

_ At least she’s looking a lot better than last night.  _

Dante clearly remembered the state she was in, as she bawled against her chest. Her pretty face puffy and red, streaked with avoidable tears. Eventually passing out and curling up on top of him. Leaving him trapped under her surprisingly heavy body. Not that he was complaining that much about that - given that it would act as a great piece of blackmail material down the line. But Dante certainly felt incredibly guilty for putting her in that position in the first place. He probably should have had a little more tact when he was asking her those questions about her distrust of demons - or at the very least, have kept his morbid curiosity on a tight leash! 

Just as Lady turned to open up her small, counter-top fridge. She noticed the very awake Dante starting back at her. 

“Good morning! Uh- sorry if I woke you up with that!” Lady greeted sheepishly. Raising her hand up in an awkward, half wave at him. 

“Nah, don’t sweat it! Wasn’t exactly having the best of dreams anyway!” Dante yawned, pushing himself up from the bed and walking over to the kitchenette. 

Like a curious puppy, he peeked his head over Lady’s shoulder. Watching in fasciation as she got out a box of eggs from her fridge, flipped open its lid and cracked two eggs on the side of her worn pan, already cooking two slices of bacon. Letting the shell's gelatinous contents drop into the pan with a splat. “So, whatcha doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m making breakfast!” Lady explained, glancing at the sleep deprived demon over her shoulder. “I’ll admit its not very often I have guests come around here. Let alone make breakfast for myself. So this is kind of a special occasion.”

“A special occasion, huh?” A teasing smile formed on Dante’s face at the idea. “Aw, geez Lady! What a way to reveal your feelings towards me- oooof!” 

Lady swung her leg backward and kicked him hard in the shins. Causing Dante to lose his balance and stumble backwards slightly. The brunette spun around, with spatula in hand, and pointed it at his bare chest accusingly. “You’ll be eating whatever's left in the trash if you keep that up.” 

Right on queue, Dante’s stomach rumbled loudly at her threat. He glanced down at his ravenous stomach, and rubbed it soothingly. Mentally reassuring it that it’s master wasn’t going to forfeit its meal on account of a cheap joke. He was going to treat his body better than that!

He looked back up at Lady with a sad pout, and nodded in defeat. “Understood.” 

“Good!” Lady smiled softly, turning back around and flipping the strips of bacon over. She then switched on a nearby toaster and inserted two slices of bread into its depths. 

It was around this time that a creeping feeling of Deja Vu began to crawl up Dante’s neck, as Lady repeated those events so vividly depicted in his dream. 

_ Heh, maybe all this stress is finally getting to me! Perhaps you’ve granted me the power of foresight Verge! Although if that’s the case, I’ll just get to dream about kicking your ass tonight!  _ Dante thought to himself jokingly. Sitting back down on the sofa bed with a gentle thud. 

Satisfied with her work, Lady put her hands onto her hips proudly. "Hey Home! Can you set an alarm for 5 minutes?” 

“ _ Of course Mary! Timer starting now.”  _ The apartment AI responded in a crisp voice.

Lady walked back over to the bed and sat down beside Dante. It was obvious who was the more awake of the two, as Lady sat up posture perfect, while Dante sat hunched over, rubbing his eyes tiredly - still refusing to put on a shirt. 

Well, at least that was the mercenary’s first assumption anyway! From what she had already observed of that dumbass, he probably didn’t even realise it was weird for him to be strutting around a strangers apartment half naked, the day after meeting them! But, no matter his intention. It still made the situation ridiculously awkward for Lady - who was desperately trying to glue her eyes to anything else in the room, that wasn’t the handsome, muscular demon sitting beside her-

_ God dammit! Pull yourself together woman!  _ Lady berated herself sternly, as an embarrassing heat rushed to her cheeks - turning them bright red.  _ Just tell him to get dressed! Then you won’t have this issue! _

_ “ _ Hey, Lady?” Dante asked in a soft voice.

“Yeah?” Lady responded quietly. Stubbornly looking over towards the bathroom door. 

The demon took a deep breath before speaking. “I’m… _ really _ sorry about yesterday. I should’ve dropped the subject the moment you refused to talk.” Dante admitted sombrely. His head downcast in shame, as he cupped his hands together tightly in his lap. "It was cruel of me to….to well, force you to recount a tale like  _ that _ .”

“Oh! No…really it's fine.” Lady blurted out, glancing over at him. “I mean, it was my choice to tell you about it. And well….honestly I feel a lot better for getting that weight off my shoulders.” 

The brunette sighed deeply, as she tried to process her complicated thoughts and put them into words he would understand. Rubbing her left arm awkwardly. “I know what people say. That telling others about your problems always helps. Until now, I always thought that was a load of bullshit. But, I suppose between meeting you - a real  _ demon  _ in the flesh - and getting to express my feelings on the matter. I certainly feel a lot better for it.”

“You’ve never talked about it with anyone?” Dante murmured softly. 

"I….I think I’ve only ever told snippets of it to a couple of people. Never the full story…..so it was a cathartic experience if anything.” She turned her head towards the demon beside. A sad smile twitching up on her lips, as she spoke in a strained voice. "So thanks for that, Dante."

_ “The timer has finished Mary!”  _ The apartments AI chimed in. Without another word, Lady got up from the sofa bed and walked over to the kitchenette. Switching the cooker off, and catching the two slices of bread as they popped out of the toaster. 

Dante watched as she served the meal up.  Feeling a strange, uncomfortable honour, twisting in the back of his gut, at thought of being the first person to hear her traumatic tale in full. Not a title he particularly wanted to hold. But at least, Lady seemed to feel better for it. 

_ You always used to say I was a ‘people person’ Eva. Guess that talent has finally come in handy. Poor girl. I can’t imagine what its like to live with a pain of that locked up inside of you for so many years.  _ Dante contemplated, with a mournful shake of his head. 

Just as Lady was finishing serving up breakfast, an obnoxious, old fashioned ringing sound began to pour into the apartment.  _ “Mary, you have an incoming call from Morrison. What would you like me to do about it?” _

The brunette raised an eyebrow in confusion at the strange phone call. Sure, it wasn’t uncommon for her employer to call her. Morrison loved that bar of his far too much, to get off his lazy ass and come see her in person, whenever he wanted to just have a ‘friendly chat’ or alert her to any new jobs coming up. But for him to be calling this early in the morning, either something had gone terribly wrong, or he was in one of his hangover depressions that required her to swaddle him with idle chatter till he past out again. 

“Answer call” Lady ordered. Putting down the knife, which she was using to butter her toast, on the countertop with a clank. 

Almost immediately Morrison’s abnormally hasty voice came blasting out of the apartment's speakers. _ “Hey Lady! I’ve got an urgent job offer for you! Client's willing to pay a fuck ton, cause' some real shit went down last night-“ _

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Slow down Morrison!” Lady exclaimed. Moving her arms in a calming motion, despite the fact he obviously couldn’t see. “What’s going on?”

_ “You know the Styx ward in the middle city? Well a major datacenter over there got hit by some crazy motherfucker. Pretty much wiped out all the security forces who were on duty that night-” _

“Yeah, Dante was telling me all about that! Been happening a lot recently.” Lady said nonchalantly, Playing coy with the amount of information she actually knew. She didn’t think Dante would be too pleased, if she suddenly revealed to Morrison that the attacker was his brother - this ‘ _ Vergil’ _ \- without his permission. Especially when he was just sitting across the room from her; fully able to listen in to the conversation currently unfolding. "What’s made this so urgent?”

_“Well, the security force that was assigned to protect that data center is owned by a guy called Modeus. Kid’s rich. Like_ ** _really_** _fucking rich!”_ Morrison paused for a moment, to do what Lady could assume was to take a puff of his cigar. _“Got massive holdings in some media conglomerates! Anyway, the long story short is that he’s caught word from your girl Nevan that Dante knows who the attacker is. Wants to have a meeting with the two of you, before he discusses the details of the job more thoroughly!”_

“Wait, Nevan told him about this? Oh come on! I really thought I could trust her!” Dante exclaimed in a whiny voice. Looking like a downtrodden puppy, as a hurt pout appeared on his full lips. His deep blue eyes downcast to the floor. “She promised me and everything!”

Lady could practically hear the teasing grin forming on the older man’s face.  _ "So you've Dante’s staying with you now? Gotta say I’m impressed little missy-" _

“Please shut up. He’s only staying here….for  _ awhile _ .” Lady stressed, trying her best to save face in the awkward situation that demon had now put her in. Not even noticing her accidental allowance of a longer duration to Dante’s stay, in her mild panic over the stripper’s sudden betrayal of trust. “Do you have any idea how much Nevan told him?”

_ “Well, the most I could gather was that he simply knew an associate of one of my mercenaries, knew who the attacker was.”  _ Morrison explained simply. Taking yet another puff of his cigar. _ "Nothin’ more than that I’m afraid!' _

The pair let out a collective sigh of relief at that. It seemed at least that Nevan hadn’t leaked all the details of yesterday’s meeting. Something that Dante was particularly thankful for - given that he’d probably already have a bounty on his head from the military higher ups, if she had spilled the beans on **_that_** military secret he had told them. At least it was just an unfortunate circumstance she’d placed them in. One which now needed to be quickly resolved, before the demonic authorities got involved with the matter - if Vergil was pissing off some very wealthy humans. 

“Alright, we’ll be coming over to meet him then. Can you send me the location?” Lady inquired.

_ “No need little missy! I’m already over there! Just track my location and you’ll find it." _

_ He’s actually gone to meet the client in person? Damn, this has got to be serious business!  _ Lady thought to herself. Gritting her teeth together in stress, as her hands curled into tight fists by her sides. It was far too early too early for her to be dealing with this shit! “Ok. We’ll see you soon, Morrison!”

_ “Aye same here, Lady! I’ll see you lovebirds later!”  _ Morrison chuckled teasingly, in his deep, baritone voice.

Lady’s cheeks lit up bright red with embarrassment. “Oh god! Please just stop with that! He’s only staying with me cause' he’s an idiot who-"

Morrison had already hung up.

* * *

After catching the quickest monorail ride they could get, the pair soon arrived at the data centre. It was a massive, towering hulk of steel and glass on the middle layer of the city. A rare sign of status, wealth and it has possibly quite a few connections to the upper layer. The spire was wide enough at its base to comfortably fit Lady's entire neighbourhood, but even just walking closer to it made her feel out of place. The glare of neon signs she was used to from the lower levels of the city were all but gone. The path leading up to the main entrance was clean and wide, with gentle greenish-blue light strips illuminating her steps. It was impossible to see what went on inside the building as well, its entire outside was made up of triangular panes of mirrored glass, only reflecting a faint view of the city and the clouds, clouds which were pierced by the top of the tower. She wondered, could you see the sun from up there...

“Well isn’t this place fancy!” Dante whistled in amazement. Spinning his head around to look at every little detail he could lay his eyes on, the mosaic-like arched entrance way, hanging magnificently above them. “This has gotta be cleanest area I’ve seen on the lower floor-"

"Oi!” Lady snapped in offence; coming to a sudden, sharp halt beside him. Causing her to fall a few strides behind the now-hooded demon.“What exactly are you implying here?"

When Dante noticed there was only empty air beside him, he quickly pivoted around to face her. Realising after just one glance at her embittered features, that he was in for a whole world of pain if he didn’t choose his words  _ extremely _ carefully right now. “I-I mean your apartment is nice too! Uh…a little more  _ homely _ than this place. Doesn’t exactly make me feel like I’m about to go into surgery-“

“You’re really not helping yourself here, Dante.” Lady sighed in a rough voice brimming with anger; shaking her head in dismay. Dipping her head down so that her delicate face was completely hidden under the shadows of her dark hair. “Come on, we’re running late!”

Without another word, Lady marched off ahead of him with a frightening efficiency. Dante, obviously, attempted to chase after with the irate brunette into the sleek building. Finding himself quite impressed by what the human's anger was capable of. He struggled to catch up with her, even though he had a superhuman advantage over her biology. Eventually only managing to maintain a steady pace beside the fuming mercenary, he was practically jogging beside her. 

After asking around amongst the hordes of armed guards, now stationed around the building. A young man, who looked to be fairly new to his job, kindly showed them the way to the databank's server room in the centre of the building. Even as they approached the main server room, it was clear what kind of carnage Vergil had caused during his attack - as several forensic scientists stood gathered around an endless series of covered bodies lining the corridor. Each victims' blood lay splattered ruthlessly against the once pristine glass walls of the walkway. Overlooking a well maintained, gorgeous rose garden that lay beneath the tunnel. 

Lady couldn’t help but cringe in disgust at the sight of all this. The same nauseated feeling that had swelled within her gut last night, suddenly returned in full force - only this time cranked up to 11. The brunette quickly found herself suffocated by the lingering smell of decay. Only worsened by the unbearable heat of the area. Thanks to the sea of humanity sharing one another’s body heat in the compact area, as well as the greenhouse-like conditions of the architecture. 

It soon became too much for her. And so, just as they reached the end of the walkway, Lady pulled herself aside and leaned her feverishly hot forehead against the closest, cold, steel plated wall she could find. Dry heaving a few times, as she desperately tried to expel vomit from her system that had never truly formed. 

“Hey, can you stop for one minute?” Dante quickly asked, putting his pale hand on the young guard's onyx armoured shoulder-pad. Causing the guard’s march to come to a sudden halt.

“Uh, sure!” The young man responded in a voice high-pitched with youth. Nodding back at the hooded-demon, over his shoulder. 

“Cheers!” Dante thanked, before running over to his sickly companion. Sliding one of his muscular arms around her petite waist to keep her stable as her body convulsed violently. “Hey, I’ve got you babe! Just let it out.”

Unable to speak, the brunette nodded weakly in response. Dry heaving a few more times, before she started to return to herself again. Her sickly, pale skin returning to its usual colour in a matter of minutes. 

“Thanks for that Dante.” Lady smiled feebly. Pushing herself away from the dark, steel wall. Prompting Dante to drop his supporting arm from around her waist, and return it to his bare side sheepishly. She brushed herself down, and took a quick glance at the carnage that lay behind her. “God, it's such a fucking mess in there.”

“Yeah.” Dante uttered absentmindedly.  He was seemingly lost in his own thoughts, staring blankly and emotionlessly at nothing in particular. From basic observation, Lady would have simply assumed he was completely unaffected by the gruesome scene, had she not noticed the excruciatingly tight fists by his sides. Trembling violently with some un-decipherable emotion. His sharp, claw-like fingernails came close to piercing his pale skin and drawing blood from beneath its surface. 

Suddenly, he spun around - his red scarf fluttering past her like an oversized butterfly as the demon grabbed Lady's arm without a warning, and pulled her with him. "Come on, let's go.”

The mercenary had no choice but to follow along with his gentle tugging, as she practically stumbled out of the glass corridor behind him. Not that Lady particularly minded his decision to leave that place, however. When all she wanted to do was bleach that gruesome walkway from her mind, and never have to think about it again- 

_ Oh….this really isn’t much better. _ Was the first thought to pass through Lady’s head, as her mis-matched eyes caught sight of the utter chaos of the room she had just walked into. 

It looked as though someone had sliced their way through a forest and left the trees right where they were cut down - except that these were no trees, but people. Some were already covered, some being put into body bags as the pair arrived. Yet more were still lying there uncovered and untended, their faces showing expressions ranging from fear to outright terror, some even having a pleading look in their dead eyes. 

Whoever did this had been very particular about their strikes - despite the cramped space between the massive network towers and the sheer amount of carnage, no cuts or other damages stained the electronics in the room. At most, they seem to have been sprayed with blood from the unfortunate guards stationed here, blood that was already being cleaned from the towers before their bodies were even taken away. People in lab coats were surveying the scene, presumably checking for damages, while yet more faceless guards stood watch over the corpses of their fallen coworkers.

Yet amongst the chaos, there was one particular set piece that was hard to miss. Over by the central terminal, a familiar black man with a cigar sticking out of his mouth, as he discussed business with a rather wealthy looking individual. If the two beefy armed guards towering behind him protectively, were any clue. It was clear he wasn’t a demon. The young man himself wasn’t all that much to look at compared to the ridiculously attractive imbecile standing beside Lady. That, coupled with his distinctive lack of white hair - instead having a mane of ebony hair cascading done his back in an orderly ponytail - clearly showed he was a human. 

Sure, thinking about it more critically, it seemed ridiculous to be having these kinds of insane doubts about the young man’s humanity. But it was hard not to think otherwise, when his tailored suitor and stoic, youthful face, gave off the aura of someone far more influential and powerful, than his actual standing in the city’s hierarchy. Even when looking at him from afar. 

After nodding in agreement to something the wealthy young man had said. Morrison turned his head and saw the two of them approaching the terminal. “Hey, good to see you guys made it!” He called out, stretching his arms out welcomingly.

The young man beside him looked towards the pair with a curious glint in his chestnut eyes. “So you must be Lady, and Dante? It's good to meet you.” He said in a surprisingly soft, yet business like fashion. He strolled forward, and held out his gloved hand in greeting. “My name's Modeus. Although I can assume your job broker has probably already told you that."

Lady reached out and grabbed ahold of his hand. Giving him the most firm handshake she could muster. Praying she wasn’t cutting off too much circulation from his hand in her nervous haste. “Yeah he has. But, it's nice to meet you in the flesh at any rate!"

“Its good to see your enthusiastic!” Modeus complimented, with a rather professional, stiff-looking smile etched onto his face. Quickly withdrawing his hand back to his side. "I suppose I should get down to business then.” 

He tilted his head towards the hooded demon. Gaze fully locked onto the Dante’s exposed chin beneath the shadows of his scarf.  “I’m not going to ask you to disclose the identity of the attacker if you don’t want to, Dante. My associate Nevan was very clear about that fact when she informed me of the situation.” “But…as you can see around us, the longer we allow this attacker to continue his crusade against us. The more casualties will come of it...”

“So what do you want us to do then?” Lady asked simply. Putting her hands on her hips. Sensing there was more to this client's request than he was letting on - floating around the topic with corporate pleasantries and flowery language, rather than cutting straight to the point. 

Morrison coughed awkwardly into his hand. An unsettled look in his dark eyes, as looked out over the brunette’s shoulder at yet another faceless guard being zipped up in a body bag. “Well…uh…he wants you to-“

“I want you to hunt down and kill this attacker.” 

“No.” Dante objected bluntly. Causing all present to flinch in surprise at his harsh tone. He turned away from Modeus, looking as though he were about to leave. “Look, I’m sorry man! But we’re not taking this gig! Just drop it. The guy will probably stop attacking your stuff eventually-” 

“Hey slow down a minute, kid!” Morrison called out. Taking a moment to take another puff of his cigar. “You know, if you don’t take this job. He’s just giving the job to someone else otherwise!” 

_ Give the job to someone else? _ It was something Dante hated to consider. Not that he particularly feared for his brother’s safety. The carnage surrounding them certainly proved that. But, the demon knew full well that whoever this guy hired after them, would most certainly meet the same fate as these dismembered guards, if they tried to pursue his brother.

A heavy guilt began to weigh on Dante’s heart. He knew he couldn’t allow any unfortunate soul to meet _ that cruel _ fate. It would just be cowardly for him to allow Modeus to throw endless mercenary canon fodder at his elder brother, when he could simply step in and resolve the situation himself. But at the same time, he also couldn’t just become a hitman for hire against his brother! As much as he joked about hating his cold-hearted, ice prince of a twin. Dante still loved Vergil deeply.  _ Great, _ _ I _ _ ’ _ _ m in a catch 22 here! _

Dante spun back around with a deep sigh. It seemed as though Lady was equally uncomfortable with the idea of anyone taking on this kind of job, if the torn expression on her face was anything to go by. Her lips twisted in an uncomfortable grimace, as she tilted her head to look over at Dante. Their eyes locked onto one another, as a wordlessly conversation began between the two. After a moment or two of hasty glances towards the idly smoking black man. Lady nodded in agreement, and walked over to Morrison. Snatching his Cigar out of his hand. 

Startled, Morrison comedically looked down at his now empty callous hand, then back over at Lady. Suddenly realising what was going on. “I was using that-"

"Hey, mind if we talk about something private for a moment?” Lady interjected in an urgent voice. Moving the still crackling cigar behind her, and well out of Morrison’s reach, as he desperately reached out after it. “You can have this back afterwards!"

Morrison stopped his childish grasping for a moment to consider her preposition. His hand still hanging awkwardly in the air above her head. 

“Alright. You win little missy” Morrison sighed, backing down and putting his hands into his coat’s pocket. He turned towards Modeus- who stood there patiently tapping his foot on the marble floor - shaking his head like a defeated parent giving into their child’s demands.  “Hey, I’m real sorry about this-“

“No, don’t be.” Modeus cut him off, with a dismissive wave of his hand "Go. Have your conversation with colleagues. I can wait."

After a hasty nod of thanks for his client’s patience. Morrison allowed Lady to grasp a hold of his coat’s sleeve, and drag him over to one of the room’s monolith severs, a fair distance away from Modeus’ prying ears. The demon in red was already standing over there with his back pressed against the server's glossy black surface - distortedly reflecting the approaching duo in its coating. Arms stubbornly crossed against his chest, with his head tilted downwards slightly \- in all, he was looking more like some shady back alley drug dealer than someone who belonged in this very clinical environment.

When the two of them finally came to a stop in front of the demon. Dante lifted his head up, and beamed brightly at the brunette from beneath his crimson hood. “Thanks for doing that Lady.” 

“No worries!” Lady said. Putting her hands on her hips, as she turned to Morrison with an uncertain expression on her face. “So…I am not exactly sure what Dante’s already told you. But-“

“I haven’t told you the whole truth Morrison.” Dante confessed honestly. Rubbing the back of his neck. He began to feel a large lump forming in the back of his throat, as he struggled to admit the uncomfortable truth aloud. “That attacker….well, he’s my brother.”

Morrison raised an eyebrow at that. “Your brother?” 

“Yeah. And he’s- ok, we're  _ both _ sons of Lord Sparda.” Dante admitted sheepishly. Dropping his head down self-consciously, to further conceal himself in the shadows of his scarf, as a tech worker rushed past the group. Unfortunately, this didn’t exactly have the desired effect he was hoping for, as an incriminating lock of white hair flopped out from beneath his hood. Causing Morrison to gawk with surprise. "I’m gonna assume you can guess the rest from there.”

A moment of awkward silence followed in the wake of Dante’s revelation. Lady could’ve swore she could practically hear the clockwork in Morrison’s mind whirl to life. Slowly clicking the pieces of the puzzle together, as he ran a thoughtful hand through his thick beard.

“HOLY SHIT!” Morrison exclaimed. A panicked expression shooting up the black man's features, as the reality of the situation suddenly set in for him. Waving a disoriented finger in Dante’s direction. “Fuck, ok. Let me get this straight, kid! You’re telling me that the son of Emperor Mundus’ second in command is behind all this shit?!”

“Uh Morrison? Might wanna keep it down a little!" Lady commented in a hushed voice. Tensing up under the increasing scrutiny they were getting from nearby bystanders. Practically feeling their withering stares tickling the back of her pale neck. Not exactly a pleasant sensation to say the least.

“Sorry! Just….damn-“ Morrison reached up and rubbed his aching temples with the palm of his hand. Seemingly calming down from his loud outburst. “This just makes shit far more complicated now.”

At least Morrison was now on the same page as them. 

“Look, I’ve got no clue why the hell my big bro is doing any of this!” Dante sighed, in a stressed voice. "But you’ve gotta somehow convince Modeus to drop that job -or I don’t know! At least distract him for awhile!”

“Alright kid. Don’t sweat it.” Morrison said simply. Putting a gentle hand on Dante’s shoulder, with a reassuring nod. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

With that, Morrison departed. Marching across the room, like a man on a critical mission, over to Modeus. Entering a heated negotiation with the clean-cut young man.

“Well, let’s hope that's solved the problem for now!” Lady reassured hesitantly. Watching Morrison slide a friendly arm around a Modeus’ shoulders - seemingly deploying his more roguishly charming side. A rarely used, but powerful weapon the brunette knew was in his arsenal. 

“Yeah let's.” Dante mumbled beside her. Brushing back his fallen lock into the shadows of his crimson hood, before dramatically flopping back against the server behind him. Sliding down its sleek frame till he was sat on the floor, like a dropped rag doll. “Man, that was a close call! We’ve gotta find him soon. Don’t think Morrison or my dad, when he gets back, are going to be able to stave off word of this getting to the demonic military. And when that happens…”

Dante trailed off at the end there, as a violent shudder ran through his body. He damn well knew what the protocol for insurrection was, and-

He really did not want it to come down to **_that_ ** .

All of a sudden, he felt a soft, warm weight lean against his right side. Lady was there, dropping down with her back against the server just like him. Bare legs pressed to her chest, blew a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. Even if she didn’t explicitly say it aloud, Dante could tell she was trying his best to cheer him up. As a peaceful silence fell over the pair. 

“You know, has it occurred to you, to maybe check what he was looking at?” Lady mumbled from beside him. Idly gazing over at the giant metal terminal in the centre of the room. Tapping the side of her cheek thoughtfully. “I mean, I doubt anyone’s touched the central terminal while they’ve been cleaning up this mess. So his search history should still be on there, at the very least!”

“You’re right!” Dante perked up in eureka. A feverish grin rapidly growing on his face, as the plausibility of her suggestion began to seem more realistic in his head the more he thought about it. Eventually, he couldn’t contain himself anymore; the demon excitedly grabbing Lady’s shoulders and pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. “Thanks Babe! You’re a genius!"

“Happy to be of service to you. But can you let go? I think you're crushing my lungs!” She cried out in a high-pitched voice. Struggling to keep her head above water - ok, it was actually his shoulder she was struggling to rest her chin against, not wanting to have her face crushed by his chest - as she gazed out at the growing number of bystanders staring at the couple. Many whispering into one another's ears; gossiping smirks appearing on some of their faces. Utterly mortifying for the poor brunette. 

“Aw, but they say a girl loves to speak in a higher-pitched voice for the guy she likes! You don’t want to leave me do you?” Dante teased.

“Oh shut up!” Lady snapped in a flustered voice; feeling a surge of heat rush to her cheeks in annoyance. Gritting her teeth in frustration, as she let her fury at her partner’s idiotic antics, fuel a sudden swell of strength in her muscles. Managing to free her thin arms from his hold, she let them slip down to his exposed hips, before pitching them. Hard. Causing the startled demon to instinctively lurch backwards in pain. “Now are you going to check that terminal or not?”

“Yeah yeah! I’m going!” Dante babbled, pushing himself up from the  ground. 

Careful to keep his movements as discreet as possible, Dante hastily strolled across the room. He fiddled with the end of his crimson scarf, trying his best to make it seem as though he were mindlessly wandering about the place waiting for Morrison to be done. Taking ever so subtle, sudden turns as he wandered, to make it look as though he wasn’t heading straight for the terminal. Making a hasty, nimble-footed dash past the back side of Modeus and his two hulking bodyguards, while he was distracted by his heated negotiation with Morrison. 

Talking of the job-broker, Dante could have sworn Morrison had given him a sneaky wink of approval, over Modeus' tailored shoulder. What that wink was meant to symbolise, the demon had no clue. But it was nice to see Morrison was on side, regardless.

When Dante finally reached the terminal, he rested both his hands down onto its steel, metal frame. Allowing it to support his whole body weight, as he scanned the area for a way to turn the damn thing on!

_ Come on, there’s gotta be an on button or something around here!  _ Dante though, leaning down to examine the underside of the terminal. Unfortunately, it seemed as though the terminal was an enclosed unit. Its wires, kept safely protected behind its metal casing bolted to the floor. And aside from the smooth layer of curved steel running along the underside of the monitor - that Dante traced with his pale hand - there was no clear way to activate the terminal. 

“Stupid piece of technology!” Dante hissed, slamming his fist down on the stubborn monitor in frustration. 

All of a sudden, Dante noticed a flash of light out of the corner of his eye. Upon closer inspection, he realised the terminals screen had somehow magically switched on at his abuse. The seal of the Emperor’s household, alongside the words “Welcome to the Citizen’s registration network”, were both clearly displayed against its pristine, white background. 

Giving the screen a brisk tap with the back of his knuckles, the demon watched as the screen faded away, only to return with a menu of options available at his fingertips. 

_ Alright bro! Let’s see what kinda porn you've been looking at!  _ Dante joked to himself crudely; a mischievous grin forming on his face, as he eagerly tapped the ’search history’ icon at the top right hand corner of the monitor. 

An electric current pulsed through Dante’s finger. 

Startled, the demon pulled his hand away from the console.  _ What the- _

He looked down at his shocked hand, cradled by the other again his chest, checking to see if it was ok. Thankfully, it seemed as though he hadn’t gotten any kind of electrical burn - the pale skin of his fingertips looking completely normal. But he had to admit, it was certainly weird that he’d even gotten that shock in the first place. Wasn’t this place meant to be state of the art?

His sharp eyes glanced back over at the malfunctioning console, finding it still stuck on the same menu screen as before. Weird. Perhaps he hadn’t hit that area properly with his finger? 

Against Dante’s better judgement, he hesitantly brought his hand back up to the console’s screen. Spamming the stubborn ’search history’ icon repeatedly - all leading to the same meaningless conclusion of nothing happening. As though the screen had completely frozen. 

_ Well, shit.  _ Dante cursed. Not noticing the unnatural twitching of his cheek, as he grimaced.  _ Maybe I broke the thing when I slammed the screen- _

His legs gave out from under him.

The demon collapsed to the floor. Losing complete control of his body, as his limbs flailed uncontrollably. His torso and head going into spasms and convulsions. Thick drool poured out of his mouth in waves. 

“DANTE!” He heard Lady cry out in a distorted voice. He could faintly recognise the sound of people running over to him. A crowd of shadows surrounding his body - watching on in horror.

“Hey don’t touch him! Can anyone get me something soft I can use to support him?” The brunette commanded. 

“Here!” Morrison’s gruff voice yelled. A moment later, Dante could feel something soft being placed under his shaking head. 

“Don’t worry Dante, I’m here! You're going to be ok!” He heard Lady reassure from beside him; her soft voice tinged with powerful, trembling emotion. It was immensely reassuring to the helpless devil. Knowing that someone who cared about him was nearby, in what he thought were his final moments, as darkness consumed his vision whole. A feeling of weightless encompassing his whole being. Floating in a liminal realm-

~~_Da_~~ _Dan_

_~~Dant~~ _ ~~_Dante_~~

_~~Dante.~~_

  
  


~~_DANTE_~~

~~_Dante_~~

~~_Come find me, little brother._~~

* * *

Dante awoke gasping for air. 

His vision was blurry, making it hard to see where he was. But the fact he was conscious meant he was alive. Good.

Yet, what was not so good was the mystery to why he felt so wet. Granted, he didn’t actually wear much clothing - but what he did wear, like his trousers and socks, were utterly soaked through. For one horrible minute, the demon thought he might have pissed himself during…..well whatever that was. 

Curious as to what was going on, Dante began to feel his way around the area surrounding him. He seemed to be in some kinda metal tub, if the echo-like clanking from tapping it was anything to go by. Submerged in a mountain of ice cubes, that had been haphazardly piled on top of his body. Chilling him to his very core.  _ An ice bath? Why the hell would I need- _

“Ah kid! You’re awake!” A thickly accented southern woman cheered, from across the room. Strolling over to a disoriented Dante’s side, and resting her arms against the frame of the steel bathtub. “Good to see you're still in one piece. Been out for around nine hours!”

“Wha- What happened?” Dante asked weakly. Trying to push himself up into a sitting position. Cringing at the cold burn of the ice beneath his pale hand. 

“What happened? Heh, that’s kinda an understatement kid. What you should be asking is what didn’t happen!” The southern woman cackled. Her tired, elderly features, messy butterscotch coloured hair, tied back in a loose ponytail, and nondescript clothing, starting to come into focus the longer he stared at her. “Those nanobots inside you almost fried your body! Went completely crazy at the drop of a hat, when they were infected with a virus."

Dante raised an eyebrow at that. “Virus? I think you're kinda wrong there, miss! Demons are immune to-"

“A  **_computer_ ** virus, dummy!” She heckled, reaching over Dante’s shoulder to unplug a thick, black cable from the chip in the back of his head. Causing an unnatural shiver to go shooting down his spine “Look I know this place may look like a surgery, but I’m not exactly a trained doctor!”

Well...that wasn’t disconcerting to hear at all. 

“Wait. Who are you, then?” He asked hesitantly. 

“Name’s Nell Goldstein. I’m an engineer in bionics and biohacking.” She introduced herself nonchalantly. Grabbing a small torch from a nearby bench and shining it directly into Dante’s blue eyes. Before then flicking it off and switching to the other. "Not gonna lie though, I do play both sides of the field. Both legal and illegal modifications. I-If you're ever interested of course!” 

“Uh, yeah maybe one day.” Dante blurted out off-handedly. Attempting to block out h er piercing l ight with his hand. “Can you stop doing that?"

“Sure. You’re all good, by the way!” She said in a pleased voice, motherly voice. Putting down the torch on a nearby, metallic bench with a clank. Before patting his broad shoulder. “Damn lucky too!”

Lucky? What did she mean by that? 

Just as Dante opened his mouth to ask that very question. His partner came charging through the door in front of him. A relieved smile on her face, as she threw her arms around him, and pulled him into a tight hug. 

“Dante! You’re awake!” Lady cried in a joyous voice, filled with the lingering pent up grief. Her small body impossibly warm, compared to the freezing ice surrounding him. Like coming in into a toasty home on a cold wintery night. After a moment of embrace, she pulled back from the demon ever so slightly. A stern look in her heterochromatic eyes. “Fuck. You gave me a real scare, you know?!” 

“Don’t worry kid. Your friend's gonna be fine.” Nell reassured cheerfully, from behind. 

Lady completely let go of Dante’s shoulders, and spun around to look at the elderly woman. Half sitting on the steel bath’s rim. “Thank you so much for saving him!” 

“Hey no worries! And don’t worry about paying me.” Nell said with a gruff, yet kind smile. “I don’t get a job  _ this interesting _ very often. I’ll count that as the payment on its own!"

“What do you mean by that?” Dante asked curiously. Wrapping his bare arms across his chest as he shivered slightly.

Lady took a deep breath before speaking: “When you collapsed at the databank Dante, at first we thought you had a seizure. So we were going to call for an ambulance, when the central terminal bricked itself and turned off completely. Modeus quickly realised someone must have tampered with it, and said we should get you to a bionics expert. Thankfully, it seemed Morrison knew Nell over here.”

“Yeah, the two of them carried you over here on a stretcher. And man, were you in a bad state! Could have sworn you were going to melt the fabric of that stretcher, with how high your fever was!”

“Hence the ice bath.” Dante gasped in realisation. His boyish features lighting up joyfully, at finally understanding what the hell was going on. 

“Bingo, kid!” Nell cheered in her thick accent. Pointing finger guns at him approvingly. “When Lady mentioned you had nanobots inside you, I quickly hooked you up, and found that the virus infecting them was telling those bots to self-destruct on mass. You’d have been screwed, had I not found a backdoor to disable them. And that’s where it gets  _ real  _ interesting!"

Nell reached over Dante’s head to grab a rather battered looking laptop - barely held together with peeling, aged duct tape. She spun the device around to show the pair its screen. An incoherent mess of tabs, containing lists upon lists of code."See, the backdoor had a DNA lock on it, so it could only be accessed by whoever first activated the virus. Something pretty common with this type of tech, given that you don’t wanna spring your own booby trap-"

The elderly woman quickly highlighted an area of code in neon blue, with her cursor. Before pulling up a different tab, and highlighting another section of code in neon red. It was only then, that it became apparent the technologically illiterate pair, that the code was  _ eerily similar _ in both. If not the exact same.

“To cut a long story short, as you can see Dante, your DNA was an  _ identical  _ match to that of the hackers. Crazy right?” Nell exclaimed enthusiastically. Completely unaware of the young man freezing up in shock, as she continued to rant; “When I first saw that, I couldn’t help but laugh! I mean, what are the odds of that-“

“Vergil” Dante suddenly uttered; his brother’s name escaping his lips. He gazed down at his moist hands, as they curled into fists in his soggy lap. _Christ bro, you must’ve_ ** _really_** _not wanted the demonic authorities to see what you were looking at. What the hell do you want to keep so badly hidden, if you're willing to do that?_

But then, if Vergil was so insistent on nobody discovering the truth of what he had found, did he call for Dante to find him? That deep, nasally voice he heard in his lucid state, was most certainly his twin's. Yet, how sure could Dante be that it wasn’t a figment of his imagination? His overheating mind created a fever dream of what he wanted to hear - his brother’s voice once more!

No. That couldn't be right! The clarity of his brother's command and the formal directness of it, sounded far too much like Vergil for his mind to mimic. That, coupled with voice’s use of “little brother”, was far too similar to what his aloof, asshole of an older brother loved to use to show off his superiority in age. Even if it was only by a few minutes. 

So what on earth did his brother want with him? Why be so cryptic? 

_ Come on Verge! You’ve got to give me something more than that!  _ Dante asked wordlessly. Yet another shiver running through his body, as he grit his teeth tightly together. You c _ an’t expect me to do all the hard work asshole! _

“Hey Nell?” Lady suddenly asked from beside him. Snapping Dante out of his thoughts. "So I know I’m pretty clueless at programming. But-“ She stopped for a moment and pointed her pale finger at a strange line of code, on one of the tabs hidden behind the rest, that seemed to glitch out every so often. Changing what was written there in a flash, before reverting back. "I can’t help but think that section just there looks a little weird.”

“Good point, now you mention it.” Nell remarked curiously. Moving to put on her elegant, golden framed glasses, hanging from a chain around her neck. Leaning around the Laptop to get a better view at what was going on

Suddenly, her auburn eyes widened, and she quickly spun the laptop around, in her arms, to face her. Balancing the machine on her knee, as she leaned her elderly form against the metal bathtub. “Give me a second, kid.”

The audible sound of keyboard keys being clacked echoed around the room. A look of eminence concentration on Nell’s worn face; brows furrowed and biting down on her lip furiously. Dante and Lady simply exchanged awkward, passing glances at one another, as they waited for her to finish. 

"Heh, well wouldn’t you know it?” She grinned excitedly. Looking over at the mercenary with a pleased look in her gentle, wrinkled eyes. "You weren’t wrong, kid! There is something here!"

“Oh Really?” Lady exclaimed. A stark look of surprise shooting up her face, at actually being right about something completely out of her field of expertise. Bending slightly over to see what was on Nell’s screen.

“Yeah. And they're coordinates of all things!” Nell quickly threw up a search engine and copied the series of numbers into its search bar. With a click of the enter key, it brought up the picture of a building Lady could’ve sworn she had seen someone where before. “For a skyscraper near here apparently!”

“He wants to meet me.” Dante gasped loudly. Causing the two women to turn their heads towards the soaked demon behind them, in confusion. Crap! He should probably give them some context to this, shouldn’t he? “Uh- when I passed out. I could’ve sworn I heard my bro’s voice telling me to come find him. Which, look, I know sounds kinda crazy! Believe me-”

“Of course it does! Why the hell would your brother put you into a coma, just so you could go visit him?” Lady questioned. She certainly had a rational point!

“Vergil….has a strange sense of humour?” Dante attempted to defend himself half-heartedly, with a shrug and an awkward grin. Unfortunately, that did not seem to calm the irate woman. Glaring at him with a look that practically screamed; “ _ Are you kidding me!" _

“Now, he’s not entirely wrong Lady.” Nell soothed, placing a motherly hand on Lady’s dark hair and patting it. Causing the mercenary’s shoulders to relax a little, under her touch. “Look, I’ve seen some weird stuff today. And honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if something like that could happen. Might as well check out that lead! What else are you kids gonna be doing tonight, anyways? Go out on a date!”

“No!” Lady snapped adamantly. Her pale cheeks tinged with pink, as she turned away. Hiding her face in shadow behind her short, brown locks.“God! Why does everyone keep thinking that?!"

At that point, Dante couldn’t hold it in anymore, and burst out into hounding laughter. Slapping his moist trousers as he keeled over until his white hair was practically gliding across the icy waters surface. He desperately clawing at the black wrappings covering his chest - unable to get a hold of himself.

The mercenary began to turn an even brighter shade of red at his mockery. Reaching her last straw, Lady pointed a furious, trembling finger at him. “I’m gonna drop this laptop in there with you, if you don’t shut up, Dante!”

“Alright I’ll stop!” Dante wheezed in a breathy voice. Raising his hands in surrender. Not fancying getting electrocuted again today. “Guess we’ll stop by and pay my bro a visit then. If he’s even there!”

Just then, the demon pulled himself out of the ice bath. Gripping the steel rim of the basin, as he hesitantly lowered his foot down on solid ground again. Looking like a sad wet puppy, with how his long hair drooped down over his boyish face, as he shivered violently. 

Yet, despite his frozen form, he remained stubbornly valiant. As he immediately moved to grab his nearby crimson great-sword, leaned against Nell’s steel workbench on the other side of the room, and sheathed it onto his back. Elegantly putting on his, thankfully dry, red scarf around his head and shoulders with a magnificent flourish. Before charing out of room without a single care in the world. The shop's heavy door slamming shut behind him. 

Left alone in silence, the two women exchanged concerned glances at one another. 

“Does….he know where he’s going?” Nell asked in bemusement. 

Lady facepalmed and let out a long suffering sigh. “No.” 

“Heh, what an idiot!” Nell sniggered with a toothy grin, shaking her head in amusement. “Welp! You better chase after him then! I’ll send you the location!”

“Thanks Nell!” Lady gave the elderly woman a kind smile. She walked out of the room and picked up her rocket launcher she’d been leaning against a nearby wall, right by the shop's entrance. Having abandoned it there, in her haste to get Dante to help. She let out a small grunt, as she hauled the hefty weaponry over her slim shoulder. Allowing herself to become adjusted to its sudden weight pull in down on her back, while quickly adjusting its leather strap so that it wasn’t digging into her shoulder.

And with that, Lady darted out of the bionics shop, and fled down the street after her partner. 

* * *

“Dante! Wait up!” Lady cried out, breathless. Catching sight of her partner running ahead of her, after streets upon streets of chasing his arse. 

Thankfully, Dante seemed to pick up on her voice, and came to a sudden, sliding stop. He spun around. Tilting his head like a confused puppy as the brunette caught up with him. When she finally reached him, she buckled over and grabbed her knees tightly. Completely out of breath. 

“You’re such an idiot, you know?” Lady huffed out in annoyance, between ragged breaths. “Why did you run off before Nell had a chance to tell us where that building was? Did you even know where you were going just now?!”

“Not really. No.” Dante admitted bashfully. Realising his mistake. An awkward, toothy smirk forming on his boyish face beneath that hood, as he rubbed the back of his neck. Letting out an out of play chuckle. “Sorry babe! Think I just got overexcited at the possibility of seeing him again."

“At least you’ve admitted it!” Lady conceded. Her breath finally returning to normal, as she straightened herself back up. “Come on! You want me to show you where it is?”

“Yeah, that would be good! Thanks!” Dante chirped. Gesturing with his hand for Lady to lead the way. She nodded and started walking. Dante following loyally behind at a respectable distance. 

A ten or so minute walk later. The pair arrived outside the target building. 

Much like the databank, glass was certainly an architectural motif of this area. Large walls of the stuff rose from the ground. Curving up near the peak of the building, so that it looked like a lantern. Not helped by the neon light running up the four, sharp corners of the building, that looked like unnatural candlelight escaping from within its walls. 

It swiftly became apparent to the pair, when they entered the grand building’s lobby, that this place was a fully functioning hotel.

After awkwardly avoiding the lobby staff vying for their patronage. Dante slipped an arm under Lady’s and dragged her towards the ground floor's restroom. Coming to a stop just outside of it's sleek, modern doors. 

“A hotel. Great! Just what we needed when we’ve gotta search this whole place!” Dante kicked the ground in annoyance. 

“Look on the bright side! If this was an office block, there would probably a fuck ton more security.” Lady pointed out. Taking the opportunity to lean back against the wall behind her. Hands resting on her hips. “We’ll just need to be careful with how we precede. I’m assuming you can pretend to be a clueless guest if you get caught?”

“Uhhh…let me try!”

Dante coughed in preparation for his performance. 

“Oh? I not meant to be here?” He purred in a seductive voice. The innocent pout playing on his full lips, slowly morphing into a charming grin. “Well I guess it's just me and you then, babe! How about I show you my-“

“That's just flirting, Dante!” Lady facepalmed into her hands in dismay. “God! What if it's a guy who finds you?”

“You wound me, Lady!” He whined in offence. A look of feigned hurt on his handsome features, as he threw an open palm to his chest dramatically. “My charm's irresistible to either sex! I mean, you like me don’t you?”

_ Well-  _ A voice in Lady’s mind started. Before it was stuck down by the rational side of her mind in a fury.  _ God he’s such an arrogant dick! What is he even thinking? _

Lady let out a deep, stressful sigh, before sliding her hands down her delicate face and gazing up at the demon. Who seemed to be none the wiser to her inner torment, as he clumsily avoided a rather well-dressed businessman leaving the toilet behind him. The two of them mumbling mindlessly apologies to one another, as the man past by. Walking off towards the elevator on the other side of the lobby.

The brunette followed the businessman’s movements. Finding herself gazing at a large silver sign placed on a wall between the two elevator shafts. It seemed as though this building had 61 floors, with the ground floor acting as its first, alongside a basement below that. A lot to search. But an idea quickly popped into Lady’s head. 

Poking the demon in red's arm to gain his attention. Dante turned to her. Finding Lady pointing directly at the floor sign with a determined look on her face. 

“Right, I’ll take the first 30 floors and you can take the top 30. Sounds good?” Lady proposed. 

“Sure!” Dante agreed. Giving her a cheeky, two fingered salute. “I’ll see you in a bit then!”

With that said, Lady watched as Dante dashed over to the elevator. Quickly sticking his arm through the door top stop it from closing, before getting inside with the businessman. Giving her a playful wink, just as the elevator's steel doors slammed shut. 

Left alone in the cramped compartment with the businessman. The two of them glanced at each other coyly. The businessman gazed at Dante’s exposed muscular torso with an eyebrow raised. The pair’s eyes eventually meeting for one awkward, fleeting moment, before they both hastily turned their attention back on the steel door. The stereotypical elevator music leaking out of crisp speakers, as the elevator began its ascent upwards.

* * *

It quickly became apparent to Dante that searching all 30 floors would just be a meaningless waste of time. After searching at least 15 floors, the demon had had enough with seeing the exact same endless hallways of hotel rooms. Each one identical from the last, give or take the odd cleaning cart. He highly doubted his twin was going to be anywhere around here. Vergil was always far more dramatic than to just stand outside the 46th floor elevator waiting for him!

And so, after his impatience had finally gotten the better, Dante decided to check the rooftop of the building, out of curiosity.

_Alright! Let’s see what’s up here!_ Dante smirked to himself. Reaching for the rooftop door’s old fashioned handle. He pulled down on it and attempted to open the door. Only to find the damn thing stubbornly locked. _My luck’s not doing too good today, is it?_ _Crap!_

He quickly around the tight area he stood in, trying to see if there was any keypad he could fiddle with. Unfortunately it looked as though this door was sealed with an old fashioned lock and key system rather than anything high tech. Seeing there was no other option. Dante backed up a little, before performing a heavy jump kick at the door. Causing the thing to fly open with a bang. The cold wind of the outside world, now leaking into the corridor. 

With a fist pump of victory, Dante strolled out onto the rooftop.

“You showed up.” A familiar nasally voice greeted him.

Apparently he didn't even need to look to know that Dante had just stumbled onto the roof. There he was, his brother, overlooking the neon cityscape from up here like it was but his own balcony he was standing on. His long blue hooded coat, embroidered with gold and marred in places with red splotches of what Dante assumed to be the blood of all the guards they had seen earlier, now swinging gently in the wind, every so often revealing a glimpse of the sword he carried. Yamato. Just like himself, Vergil had been gifted with one of his father's swords - a sleek katana with a silvery sheath full of oriental detailing and mesmerizing patterns. It certainly fit into his aesthetic, and cut about as deeply as the cold Dante had just felt in his brother's words.

“Well you didn’t exactly leave the easiest of invitations, bro!” Dante pointed out. “Thanks for putting me into a coma by the way! Finally had a chance to catch up on my beauty sleep!”

His brother spun around to face him, with a smirk. “You certain don’t look any better.”

His frontal appearance was surprisingly regal, despite the exhausted, black bags he saw under his twin’s identical eyes. He still wore his old-fashioned, tight-fitted blue vest that clung to his torso - beneath which lay a white shirt, ever so slightly ruffled at its collar. It was surprising how well his brother had managed to modernise such an old fashioned style. Giving him a rather distinct, aristocratic look compared to the average person dressed more appropriately for this futuristic time period. 

“That’s besides the point, bro!” Dante brushed his comment off. "Anyway, where the hell have you been for the past week? You know, Eva’s been worrying-“

“Don’t speak of that woman!” 

Dante was taken aback by that. Physically jolting back in shock at his twin’s tone - Filled with such intense anger and resentment towards their nanny. A clawing feeling ripping into Dante’s heart at what his brother was implying… He’d never seen Vergil be like this. He had adored Eva. Always being the overly-protective one, telling him off for making the slightest of transgressions in her sanctified presence…. It hurt to see him insult her life this. 

Dante’s dark blue eyes drooped slightly in sorrowful concern. Brows furrowed deeply, as he gazed sadly at his uncomfortably rigid brother.

“Hey.” Dante uttered softly. Taking a hesitant step towards his twin."Vergil. Where did that come from?”

The demon in blue said nothing. His stoic, hardened features holding strong, as he glared icy daggers into Dante’s form. A minuscule twitch of discontent on his lips.

“I thought you loved her-”

“How could I love the woman who did **_this_** to us, Dante!” Vergil sneered in vile disgust. He glanced down at his gloved hand; trembling with powerful emotion. He curled it into an extremely tight fist. Before violently casting it away to his side. An immense strain on his face, as he struggled to keep himself composed. “I’m- we’re not-“

“There you are, Dante!” The demon glanced over his shoulder at the sound of the feminine voice. Finding Lady walking out onto the roof with relived smile on her face. One, which started to the falter, when she came to a sudden stop. Freezing up under the critical gaze of the two brothers. “Uh….did I walk in on something?”

“Who is  _ she _ ?” Vergil asked in a dark voice.

“A friend.” Dante defended.

“ ** _Leave_** **_now_**."

“I don’t think I’ll be doing that!” Lady asserted stubbornly. Inching closer slightly to get a better look at the ghostly, identical man before her. “So you're Dante’s brother Verg-"

“I won’t tell you again, human!” Vergil growled through gritted teeth. Unsheathing his katana ever so slightly, so that it's cold steel shone dully in the artificial light. “ ** _Leave_**.”

“Hey! She can stay and hear this!” Dante put his arm out in front of Lady protectively. Manoeuvring himself so that his body was in front of the brunette.

“No she can’t, Dante!” Vergil insisted. His grip around his katana’s handle tightening, as he took a step forward. “Make her leave or **_I will!_** ”

“So you want a fight, eh?” Dante reached for the handle of Rebellion over his back. Unsheathing his own blade with a flourish, and pointing its sharp edge at his brother. A playful grin on his face, infuriating his twin further. “Alright Verge! Bring it!”

“Stop it, brother!” Vergil snapped in a serious voice. Seemingly frustrated by his inability to get through to his little brother. To say what he wanted to say. Yet, the blue demon did not back down from his aggressive stance. “Now is not the time for these foolish games-“

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, as Dante charged at him with a roaring battle cry. 

Vergil unsheathed his Yamato fully. A blast of blinding blue light erupted from his body, as his natural clothes began to rapidly dissolve away. An artificial outfit forming in its place. Acting like a second, metallic skin that rushed up to his pale jawline, and no further. A short armoured cloak materialised out from his shoulders.

Usually the armour designs from triggering were relatively bland, kept in purely black or grey because colour hardly mattered to a combat outfit. Yet his brother had always had an unusually distinctive blue intermixed with these patterns. Thicker plates started to quickly form and rearrange themselves in protective patterns around the softer bits of Vergil’s body before coming to a stop and revealing his fully triggered form.

Dante threw himself at his brother. Not caring for how formidable he looked, as he swung his crimson great-sword straight at his chest. Yet, his brother parried him without missing a beat. Again, and again, and again. A violent dance of high level swordplay between the two. 

Lady couldn't but watch in awe, stumbled backward to escape their ferocious line of fire, as the two demons clashed against one another insanely fast. Too fast for her to see with her naked eye. The pair becoming just flashes of blue and red, her frantically darting eyes struggled to follow. The inhuman reaction time the two of them must have had, blew the mercenary's mind.

Yet for the two brothers, time seemed to flow normally for the pair of them in the heat of combat. It was not them rushing about. But, rather it was the neon lit world around them at almost a dizzying pace.

“You’ve gotten better bro!” Dante taunted playfully. Narrowly dodging, by the edge of his scaf’s hood, an overhead slash with a well timed duck. “Guess killing all those people really improved your skills!”

“Don’t chastise me, Dante!” His twin retorted coldly. Parrying a heavy strike at his metallic torso with masterful efficacy. A deep frown forming on his concentrated face. “Those peoples' deaths were necessary in the pursuit of the truth!”

“And what truth is that, huh?” Dante asked. “That your a  **_monster_ ** who took their lives-“

Something seemed to snap inside Vergil the moment he said that. A volatile anger, the likes of which Dante had never seen before, possessing his twin. A savage bloodlust glinting his brother’s icy eyes, as suddenly, his strikes became much faster than what they had been before. The blue demon mercilessly slamming his katana down on his opponent. Sending sparks flying across the rooftop. Uncharacteristically, uncaring if he had left an opening for Dante to strike at, as he furiously beat his younger brother into submission. Dante struggling to keep his foothold-

His foot slipped out from under him. 

Without a second's hesitation, Vergil slammed Yamato’s sleek black sheath into Dante’s stomach. Sending the demon flying backwards. He crashed into an air conditioning unit. Crumpling its rigid metal upon impact. Steam pouring out everywhere, blinding Dante in a white mist.

_ Fuck that hurts!  _ Dante thought weakly. Every inch of his body irradiating in pain as what remained of the nanobots inside him, struggled to stitch - his particularly bruised back and stomach area - back together. Curling his hand tightly around the handle of Rebellion, as he coughed up a surge of blood that shot up his throat. 

Well, he’s certainly managed to piss off his big brother! Granted, Dante was surprised he acted so volatility to his criticism of his recent actions. And sure, maybe he could have had a little more tact with how he presented his side of the argument! But Vergil had killed all those people. Hell, plenty more even before that on missions. So it was unlikely that was what was upsetting him.

And what a time to fuck it up too! He’d come _ so  _ close to Vergil revealing what he had been up to! No more deflection and actually getting some hard facts on the matter! Man, he was such an idiot wasn’t he? Perhaps Lady wasn’t entirely wrong about that.  _ This can’t get any worse- _

It was then, as the high winds of the rooftop blew around him and parted the mist. That Dante saw Vergil marching towards him. Yamato held elegantly out by his side. Its razor sharp edge glinting with its master’s murderous intent in the dull, artificial light surrounding them. Its mirror-like surface reflected the red demon's pale, blooded face in greater clarity; as its master drew closer with every step. 

_ Shit I’ve gotta get up!  _ In a panic, Dante desperately tried to push himself up from the cold, hard ground. Only to find his once strong arms were like jelly; giving out from under him in exhaustion when he tried to put pressure on them. His body’s energy reserves are too depleted to allow him to be anything less than a slumped over rag doll. He was a sitting duck-

“Hey! You’re not going anywhere near him!” Lady yelled. Dashing in front of her partner protectively, with her rocket launcher fully primed. Pointing it directly at the approaching demon. “You’ll have to go through me if you want him!”

Vergil came to a sudden halt at her words. His head held obnoxiously high, as he examined the young woman with a critical gaze. An amused smirk forming on his pinkish lips when he had finished his assessment of her. Giving Lady a weird sense of Deja vu, with how similar he looked to Dante in that moment.

“And you think I can’t cut through those measly rockets?” Vergil chuckled darkly. “You underestimate me, human!” 

Lady watched in horror as Vergil took another step forward. Completely immune to her threats. Her grip on the rocket launcher’s trigger tightening, as the pressure began to mount. She needed to think of something quickly!

“Sure! I’ve just seen your skill! Pretty impressive, I’ve gotta say!” Lady flattered him. Attempting to keep her voice smooth and nonchalant. Not wanting to show him a hint of weakness under that sharp gaze of his, despite feeling incredibly nervous. “But what you don’t realise is that this baby has been modified, so that it can fire several rockets in quick succession. You’ll soon be overwhelmed by it, if I put it on full blast!

Well…that wasn’t exactly true. She’s seen an upgrade for her rocket launcher that could do that, at a local weapons shop. Unfortunately, she had never had the time nor money to get said upgrade. 

_ Please don’t call my bluff! Please don’t call my bluff!  _ Lady prayed internally. As she watched Vergil’s confidant expression falter at her claim. He gazed down and away for a moment. A thoughtful look on his face, as though he was calculating the odds of him winning against her ’superior’ fire power. 

Suddenly, the auditable click of a sword being sheathed sang out across the rooftop. The mercenary watched in amazement, as Vergil’s combat suit vanished in a flurry of crystalline particles - being carried off into the night by the gentle wind. His regular, organic clothes returned and fell around his frame when they were realised.

“Fine. I’ll come no further.” He promised. Giving her a small, honourable nod. 

“Good!” Lady smiled brightly. Lowering her rocket launcher in return. "Now boys! Let’s talk this out civilly.” 

“Yeah I’m up for that!” Dante replied in a strained voice. Adjusting himself so that he was sitting up on his own accord, no longer leaning back against the destroyed air conditioning unit. A look of familial concern on his boyish features, as he gazed at his twin. “Seriously Verge, what is this all about? Look, maybe I was a bit too harsh before-“

“No, that’s not it.” Vergil insisted in a sorrowful voice, dismissing his little brother with a hand wave. He sighed deeply, and looked down at his beloved katana with a haunted look in his eyes. "You don’t want to know what I know, brother."

“Yes, I kinda would!” Dante retaliated. Slamming his blistered hand down on the rooftop in frustration. “Or are you just gonna keep me in the dark like you always do, Verge? You never tell me-"

“EVA’S OUR MOTHER, DANTE!” Vergil bellowed across the rooftop.

Silence. 

Tension drained from Vergil’s body the moment he spoke those words aloud. His body shaking weakly, as he ducked his head down shamefully. Unable to maintain his composure any longer.

“Wha-” Dante gasped wordlessly. His baby blue eyes wide and motionless, mouth gasp. The demon's mind unable to fully comprehend the information that had just been told to him. That everything he knew was a lie.  **_She_ ** was a lie. “Wait….that would mean-“

“We’re half human, Dante.” Vergil explained, painfully soft. "We’re not pure blooded.” 

_ No no no! That can’t be right!  _

Dante refused to believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t be part human! If he was….he’d be an abomination to his race. An impure monster. Just like those lesser demons. God, no wonder Vergil had freaked out so much when he called him that!

Demonic superiority was something hard coded into demons from the moment they were born. Sure, in reality they were just genetically enhanced humans. But many liked to ignore that fact. Rather, there was a deep seated stigma towards those who had violated their bloodlines and intermingled with the **_other_**. Humans. Those half-breeds created from such a union, were often treated the same as a failed lesser demon. Something that should be hunted down as a threat to society and neutralised. 

But, Dante wasn’t like those monsters! He was a person! Fully sentient and aware of his actions! Rather good looking too, if he might add! It couldn’t be true-

“How can you know that for certain?” Dante asked in a desperate voice. “I-I mean dad would never lie to us! He said mum died in childbirth-"

“I saw our birth records at that datacenter.” Vergil cut him off. Tilting his head towards his brother with a solemn gaze in his eyes. “Someone had tampered with the originals, Dante. Saying that our mother’s name was Livia Sparda. A woman who by all accounts never existed. No matter how much I searched those records. But…when I finally uncovered the real copies-” He stopped for a moment. Struggling to let the words leave his lips. "It was  _ Eva Redgrave's _ signature that was slathered across the pages.” 

A sudden pain ripped through Dante’s heart at that confirmation of what he really didn’t want to hear. Yet at the same time, he was overjoyed to hear that he actually had a living, breathing mother. A mother, who had cared for him his whole life, without him ever realising it. A heavy burden, he was not even consciously aware of, being lifted from his shoulders. No longer having to morn a mum he never gotten the chance to meet - because she had been by his side the whole time!

_ She spent all those years looking after us, watching us grow up, and not once was she able to say she loved us. It must have killed her inside.  _ Dante realised. Letting out a shaky, unhappy sigh as he shook his head. 

“Only someone with demonic administrator access could change high level records like that. Meaning, father has been covering it up all this time.” At his confession of his father’s crimes, Vergil turned away in shame. At first looking as though he was slicking back his hair with his hand, when in reality, he was clutching clumps of his silvery locks in a tight fist. “Yet, in my blind search for the truth. I’ve put us all in terrible danger.”

Danger? What the hell was Vergil talking about?

“How so? You put that virus in the terminal! It certainly stopped me from seeing it!” Dante pointed out. Using his Rebellion to push himself up from the ground shakily - finally feeling sufficiently healed. Stumbling over beside Lady, who gave him a concerned glance. 

“Yes, but my actions brought far too much attention than I was hoping for. They are going to uncover what I found sooner or later, Dante. I cannot allow them to hurt our family.” Vergil looked down at Yamato in his hands. Lifting it up to chest height, before unsheathed the blade ever so slightly. He gazed solemnly at the handsome reflection staring back at him, within it’s mirror-like surface. Letting his eyelids droop shut, as he resigned himself to his fate. "So…tomorrow I’m going to return to the upper floor, and assassinate the Emperor.”

“Wha-“ Lady gasped.

“Woah! Verge!” Dante exclaimed. What the fuck kind of crack was his brother on? You couldn’t just walk into the heavily guarded imperial palace and do that kind of stuff! Not unless you expected a death sentence to be swiftly past on your head! “Look, I know you're worried and all! But that’s kind of a bit excessive-” 

“There’s no other choice!” Vergil growled in frustration; spinning around to face his brother. There was something not quite right about him. The sharp lines of his face, particularly around his cheekbones, seemed almost too unnatural, too gaunt. His complexion was a sickly white, while hidden tremors racked his body beneath the surface of his elegant clothing. By all accounts he looked like a porcelain doll on the verge of shattering. “Mundus will order us for our extermination the minute he catches word of what we are! Imagine it! The whole demonic military after us! And god knows what he’d do to Eva-“

“Yeah! But you’ll die if you try that!” Dante strode over to his idiot twin pleading. “Look there’s got to be another way, Vergil!”

“WHAT OTHER WAY, DANTE!?” Vergil snapped. His face a mess of emotions, teeth bared in a twisted grimace. Half-glaring, yet half-looking to his little brother for some semblance of guidance. 

Dante struggled for a moment. His mouth opening and closing again and again, as he to come up with a feasible, and overall better than in their hopeless situation, than just running to their deaths. In the end, only really deciding on the plan with the least to loose from it.

“We…We’ll wait until dad gets home.” Dante suggested in an uncertain voice. Meeting his brother’s eyes with a determined gaze. “Then we'll have a nice long chat with him about what to do.”

Vergil’s tense shoulders dropped a little at his suggestion. Still looking a little uncertain at the idea. “And what if we are found out before then? I doubt father would be allowed to return if that happens.”

“We could just cover up the evidence until then!” Lady suddenly chimed in. Walking over to the pair and standing in the empty space between them, finger raised. “You know! Like using duct tape to patch up a sinking ship-“

“Please don’t relate our household crisis to a sinking boat of all things.” Vergil huffed. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, as he shook his head in dismay. 

“Yeah Lady, maybe not the best metaphor right now!” Dante chuckled awkwardly. Patting her shoulder. “But, she’s not wrong. It’s kind of our only option right now! Well, aside from killing Mundus. Which you sure as hell aren’t doing, bro!”

“Alright….brother.” Vergil relented. His voice, light and breathy. “We...will do-“

Vergil’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head, as he swiftly collapsed to the ground with a thump. Exhaustion having finally caught up with him, after a week of sleeplessness. Now dragging him down and forcing him into a peaceful slumber. Blanketed by his deep blue coat, laying draped over his form. 

“That…was unexpected.” Lady blurted out. Breaking the silence that followed. 

“But he said yes!” Dante cheered. A bright, toothy grin on his face, as he turned to look at the brunette. “Guess your plan is ago, babe!”

Lady raised an eyebrow at Dante’s excitement. “Shouldn’t you maybe be worrying about your unconscious brother?” She gazed down at the slumbering man in blue. A trail of drool escaping out of his mouth, as he mumbled some inaudible sentence. 

She had to admit it was rather adorable, yet utterly hilarious to see the threatening, murderous demon from moments ago, reduced to that of a slumbering little boy. His pretty face was far too soft, and child-like in expression for his own good! She could’ve sworn the longer she stared at it, the more a strange compulsion to pitch his cute cheeks intensified. Eventually overwhelming her, as Lady's hand twitched to life; moving towards Vergil’s face-

“Ah right!” Dante interrupted. Causing the mercenary to quickly withdraw her hand and hide it behind her back, in a panic. Ducking her head in shame as heat rushed to her cheeks, as she realised what she was about to do. 

Dante, meanwhile, was completely oblivious. The demon in red wandered over to his twin, and slid his arms underneath the sophisticated young man's body. Scooping him up from the ground and holding him close to his chest in a bridal carry. He glanced down at Vergil’s slumbering form. Watching as the blue demon subconsciously buried his cheek into his twin's chest. A familial smile playing on Dante's rouge lips, as he brushed back a couple of snowy locks that had fallen onto his brother’s face. _Rest well, Verge. You sure as hell look like you need it!_

“Hey…so do you have another bed going free at your apartment?” Dante asked in a soft voice. Glancing back over at Lady, who was hoisting her rocket launcher back over her shoulder. 

“Sure! But one of you boys is going to have to take the floor, I’m afraid.” An offended look shot up Dante’s face at that. He was about to rebuke her, saying that was unfair - when Lady shrugged. “You’ve seen my sofa bed!”

“Yeah, guess you're right.” Dante pouted sadly. Turning away bashfully, as he looked out at the beautiful view of the artificial cityscape around them. “Hey…uh, thanks for saving me back there. Think Verge here would have turned me into shish kebab meat otherwise!”

“No problem!” Lady chirped, walking past him as she headed for the rooftop door. Rubbing her shoulders as a particularly icy gust of wind rushed across the roof. “Now are you going to get a move on or not? It's freezing up here!”

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” Dante called out over his shoulder. Turning around and chasing after the brunette. A tight hold over his slumbering brother in his arms. 

The three of them leaving the rooftop still in one piece. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! \O.O/
> 
> Everyone's support has been so lovely and I am every so thankful for it! This Anthology series has really encouraged me to put my work out there! So I'm glad its been paying off! <3
> 
> Tumblr: https://louadorable126.tumblr.com
> 
> Here is a link to the full Cyberpunk AU fan fic - Demons(you).me: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24343669/chapters/58700644


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